


Monster

by alyssaiscool



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Deaths, F/M, Fanfiction, Gangs, Love Story, Niall Horan - Freeform, Violence, love triangle of sorts??? not really, none of the other boys are in this, one direction - Freeform, one direction does not exist in this fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-02-20
Packaged: 2018-03-13 21:47:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 74,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alyssaiscool/pseuds/alyssaiscool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Homeless, worthless, and overall unwanted, she wasn't scared of death.  </p><p>But dying at the hands of a boy who happened across the only place she considered home wasn't how she wanted to go. </p><p>Only a monster would do such a thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fanfiction almost a year ago and, trust me, I was not exactly the best writer and I'm still not, so please don't judge. This is one of my first fanfictions. 
> 
> One Direction doesn't exist in this Fanfic. Niall is only used as someone to base one of the main characters off of when it comes to looks; his personality is completely fictional. Everything I say about him in this Fanfic is fictional. I'm warning you right now, there is very little romance in this story. But, besides all of that, enjoy.

I was sitting on the park bench, the worn wood of the seat pressing up against my thighs. The abandoned playground surrounded me, broken slides and dangerously teetering tetherball poles filling the empty lot. 

No one was here but me. 

This place was my sanctuary. It was my home away from home. Twenty years ago when the school was closed down and everyone forgot about it, this small, once fun, area was turned into a wasteland. Broken beer bottles and smashed cigarettes littered the floor. 

It was a dreary place, the faded reds, blues, and yellows of the equipment giving off the sense that it was something out of a horror movie; as if a clown or ax murderer was going to jump out from behind the ball-wall at any second. You’d never want to come here alone, as the feeling of being watched followed you everywhere you went and the smell of smoke flowed with the breeze. 

It was literally out of a nightmare. But it couldn’t compete with the nightmare that lies within the realm of my life.

I stand up, my worn converse crunching against the broken glass from the teenagers that came here to drink and smoke.

It was evening, the sun slowly sinking, the air growing colder by the second, adding to the eerie feel of the park. 

I walk towards the empty schoolhouse. Its ceilings were caving in and most of the walls lay in piles under the overhang. Stepping into the small school, I gently brushed my hand against the few walls that remained, dust and dirt wiping off onto my small hand. I wandered around for a bit, not taking any notice of the precariously drooping ceiling. The many times I had been there, I had never worried about it falling on me; I actually hoped for it. 

I’d rather die than live the life I do now. I could never being myself to commit suicide. I just couldn’t even fathom taking my own life. But I wouldn’t mind if I were to perish by some ‘freak accident’. Say I was walking across the street and a drunk driver was to drive right into my path. I wouldn’t run, I wouldn’t scream, I would stand there and let it kill me. 

I step into one of the small classrooms, seeing the grime covered walls and a chalkboard. If you looked closely, you could see what seemed to be a math lesson, with hastily scrawled numbers and formulas. 

I lean against a wall and tumble back as it breaks right under me. I jump forward, spinning around to see a sizeable hole. I smirk to myself.

I keep walking around, looking through each classroom and each office, the cafeteria and gym, everything hundreds of children from Kindergarten to sixth grade roamed for years. It was fascinating, really. 

I had lost track of time, actually enjoying myself. When I looked through one of the broken down walls, I saw it was extremely dark and a few stars were showing themselves. I needed to get back ‘home.’

I turn around and walk down the hallways, finding my way to the front doors. I look one more time into a classroom that I found my favorite. With its colorful walls and pretty floor colors, it was obvious it was a kindergarten classroom. It reminded me of when I was younger and happy. I smile to myself as I remember everything.

Then I shake my head, knowing that it was useless to wish for those things once again. The smile fell from my face and my body slouched. I turn to walk out the door and back to my ‘home.’

“Going somewhere?” 

I choke in a scream, whipping around to see a boy leaning against a wall behind me, his hands in his pockets. He had a cocky smile traced on his face.

I look between him and the door quickly, planning my escape.

“Don’t even think about it. You aren’t going anywhere.” The boy smirked. He got up from the wall and took a step toward me. On instinct, I took a step back, nearly tripping over a fallen beam.

 

“Get away from me.” I say, a lot more confident than I felt. In my time, I had encountered many of these types of guys and if you show no sign of fright, they will leave you alone. They seem to want a more innocent and… pure type of girl to most likely rape. 

“No can do, Princess.” A flash of hurt flies through my body as I remember that name.

“Don’t you dare ever fucking call me that.” I hiss, venom practically dripping from my voice. He put his hands up in fake defeat. He almost seemed amused by this entire scene. 

“Oh, well sorry about that. What can I call you? Let’s start with a name.” He said mock friendly. Anger flashed through my body and I clenched my fists, ready to knock that stupid grin off his face.

“I’m not going to tell you my fucking name. Get the hell away from me.” I snap, taking a daring step towards him. 

“Should I just call you whore? Cause from the looks of your clothes, it’s obvious you are one.” That’s when I snapped. I stepped forward and slapped him right across the face.

“Don’t you dare ever fucking say that to me! You don’t know me! You don’t know why I have to wear these clothes! You don’t know shit! So think about what you’re about to fucking say before you hurt somebody else!” I fumed, angry and hurt tears filling my eyes. Rage fills the boy’s eyes. He grabs my wrists and pushes me hard against the wall behind me, breaking it. We fall forward, my body being smashed between sharp concrete and the boy’s heavy body. All breath leaves my body as I smack against the ground. I can’t stop a cry of pain falling from my lips as a rusty nail scratches the flesh of the shoulder. I can feel the blood starting to rush from it and into my ragged shirt, spilling crimson all over the floor.

“Don’t talk like that to me!!” The boy screams in my face, a vein pumping in his neck. With every breath I took, the nail dug deeper and deeper into my skin, making me shriek from the white hot pain that surged through my body. 

“Never fucking touch me ever again, you hear me?! You are a woman, you must submit to the man!!” He rages, emphasizing the end with an extra push to my body against the ground. Hot tears spill down my face as the nail continues to dig its way into my body. My blood was soaking into the floor beneath us, turning everything dark red. 

“Stop.” I whimper. That seems to wake him up from whatever anger took over his body. The darkness left his eyes and he stood up. 

“Oh my god.” He murmured, his eyes widening as he took in the bloody scene. By that time I was gasping for breath, trying to fight the pain that was spreading rapidly through my being. I struggle to stand up, trying to get away from him. Fear surged through me, causing me to try to scoot back farther into the office we had just crashed into. My hands slipped on the blood that was on the floor. 

“P-please get away from me.” I shakily say, frightened beyond belief. In all the time I had been who I was, no boy had every caused me to bleed or hurt this much. 

“Oh my god. Oh my god. I’m so sorry.” He backed away, shocked by what he had just done. 

“Just leave.” I begged, tears spilling down my face, mixing with the blood that seemed to be everywhere. 

“No, let me help you. Please.” He tried to come closer, but I quickly turned around and scrabbled away. That caused another wave of intense pain to flow through, making me scream in agony.   
“Stop, you’re hurting yourself.” He urged.

“You’re the one who hurt me!!” I gasped out, terrified. A flash of hurt crossed his face as he realized that he had. 

“I know. Just please let me fix you up.” He pleaded. I shook my head rapidly, cringing at the pain that it brought with it. 

Things started to get blurry at the loss of blood. My head was pounding and my eyes started to droop, but I forced them open. 

“No. NO!! GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME YOU MONSTER!!” I shrieked, the amount of fear I had gotten for him in such a short time shocking me. 

“I’m not a monster. Please.” 

“Just get away from me. Leave me here. It’s not like you’d care if I bled to death or something.” I told him. 

“You’re right. I shouldn’t care. What’s just another girl?” His blue eyes turned a shade darker, making me tremble as I remember the indigo-blue that filled them when he slammed me against the wall in the first place. 

As much as I wanted him to somehow help me, to stop the pain, the terror I felt from him overpowered that urge.

“Exactly. I’m just another girl. All you need to do it walk out that door and you’ll never see me again.” I urged. The blood hadn’t stopped flowing and I could literally feel the nail in my flesh. My breathing was labored.

“Never tell anyone about this, got it?” His dark eyes bore into mine. I nodded, my bottom lip trembling as I tried to stop the flow of tears that fell from my eyes. 

“Good.” And with that he walked out of the room. I could hear his heavy footsteps walking out of the building, literally leaving me here to die. 

I was happy he was gone, as I could somewhat relax. I didn’t have to worry about him hurting me further. Then a new fear filled me. 

The fear of dying. 

I was going to die. If it wasn’t from bleeding to death, it would be the rust of the metal that got into my bloodstream, poisoning me. And if it wasn’t that, I’d probably starve to death. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get up. The longer I waited, the worse it would get. There was no way I could survive this. 

I was going to die. 

Those five words consumed me, eating me alive as the minutes ticked past, the pain in my shoulder literally killing me. I wasn’t going to make it this time. Someone would find me eventually, whether it was a daring teenager or a wild animal, I’d be found. I’d be found with a rusty nail imbedded in my shoulder. The ground would be hard with my dried blood. My ratted blonde hair would be in knots, spread out around my limp head, looking as if it was dyed a red color, when in reality is was smothered in the blood of it’s owner. My grey eyes would be wide open, lifeless. My already pale skin would be ghostly white and freezing cold to the touch. My petite fingers would be frozen in fists, brittle. 

I could picture it all now. Every little detail seemed so real. 

I was going to die.

I was going to die because of a boy who left me after being the one that killed me.


	2. Chapter Two

My dark mind was filled with pictures and images of my past. 

Memory after memory haunted me, ripping at my sensitive nerves and fragile heart. 

Each of them hit me relentlessly, not allowing me to calm from the previous one before the next one hit full force.

No matter how had I tried to make it stop, it just went on and on. It was getting too much for me to handle and all I could wish for is it to stop as I relived every heartbreaking moment of my life. 

And as I got deeper and deeper into this twisted wonderland, I began to wonder where I was and why this was happening. Was I dead or was this just a sick nightmare I am going to wake up from, lying peacefully in my bed in my five year old pony pajamas with my parents worriedly shaking me awake?

The last thing I could remember is lying on the ground of the school, bleeding like crazy. The pain was overwhelming and I suddenly was catapulted into this vortex of thoughts. 

Why couldn’t the memories stop? This all had to be a figment if my imagination; a torture from my mind. If it was all done by myself as I believe it is, I should be able to stop it, shouldn’t I? These things attacking my mind in all the hidden places aren’t someone else’s doing, they were all done to myself by me. If I could start them, I could stop them. I can’t just be restrained by my own mind. All of this is a dream, something I can wake up from in a snap of two fingers, yet as hard as I tried to awaken, I couldn’t. Every time I think wake up, wake up all that happens is the continuation of the nightmare. It made no sense at all. All I knew right now was that my own mind was torturing the hell out of me and that it needed to stop before I was driven insane. The things that kept showing up in my head are things that I wouldn’t want anyone to ever experience and it was slowly making me crazy and I could feel all the walls I had built up over the years crashing down as the thoughts took over everything that emotionally scarred me; making me watch it unfold once again. I was becoming vulnerable and I couldn’t take that. I felt weak. Like a little child, I begged and begged for it to stop, but it just kept on going. It hurt me mentally and my head was pounding with the stream of bad thoughts. This was worse than the life I was living before. There were a few, not many, but a few happy moments and all these memories were was destroying. 

All of these thoughts were mixing with the horrid memories and it put my brain into overload. Everything was just coming at me too fast and I could feel myself get dizzy. My brain felt like it wasn’t getting the oxygen it needed and the slower the air went to it, the faster the thoughts went; making everything harder and harder to understand. 

It was like water was being filled into my body and my limbs felt heavy. My eyelids felt like there were weights on top of them, trying to make them close, but they were already shut, so how could that be? I had a raging headache and I couldn’t move my body. 

All this time the memories hadn’t stopped flowing. It just kept going and going and going; on and on, until I literally wanted to break out of my body. 

And then, just like that, it stopped. I expected to wake up, but instead all I saw was blackness. Dark, soulless black that was unforgiving. I tried to look farther forward, to see if there was a ‘light at the end of the tunnel’ cliché type thing, but it was just never-ending dark. It felts as though I was trapped in a wasteland in the black of night, not knowing where I was and not being able to risk going forward. 

At first it felt peaceful and nice, so much quieter compared to the flashing nightmares. I enjoyed the silence, taking it all in gratefully. It was like listening to soft, light music after spending countless hours listening to a pounding bass on full blast. It felt like heaven and I absolutely loved it.

But then it started to get unsettling. I got anxious, thinking about if this could be the rest of my life. Was I dead and those memories were just flashbacks before I could move on? If this darkness was death, I think I’d rather be alive. 

That’s when I started freaking out. I started to squirm and get claustrophobic. It felt like I couldn’t breath and not enough air was getting into my body. I kept taking deep breaths, taking in as much oxygen as I could, but the most wasn’t enough. I felt like my lungs were being cut off and my breath started to get labored and heavy. My head felt light and floaty and my head was hurting so bad. It almost felt as though I was really tired. You know when you are super tired and you have this weird headache because you are forcing your eyes open and you feel as though your head is getting crushed and you just ache? Yeah, that’s what it felt like. 

I tried screaming but I had no breath in my lungs. When I yelled as loud as I could until it felt as though my throat was on fire, no sound came out. It was like I was so deep underwater that because of the water pressure, the water was compressing. They say if you go too far under the sea, you’ll be crushed into a little box because your body isn’t made for that much pressure on it, so it literally smashes. That’s exactly what this felt like.

I could breathe enough that I wasn’t dying, but not enough for me to feel comfortable. My stomach started to tighten and I felt really sick. It was like I had a stomachache and a headache; I just ached all over. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t, because once again, my eyes are already closed.

And then I could suddenly see outside my body. I can now see myself flailing and heavily breathing while silently screaming. I could see me gripping my head and stomach in pain, my eyes squeezed shut. It felt like I was someone else watching myself. 

All I could see was blackness and myself. The darkness spread out in every direction and then there was me, standing in the middle, sticking out in the dark world like a sore thumb. It almost looked like there was a spotlight on me. 

And I just realized how strange it is that I can see myself screaming. Why wasn’t I in my own point of view anymore? What was going on? 

I just helplessly sat back and watched as I tried to get out of the invisible box I was in. I saw myself being tortured mercilessly by my own mind. It was horrifying. Every shriek, every tear, I couldn’t do anything about. I wanted so badly to rush down there and try to save myself, but it felt like I was restrained by something. I couldn’t move at all. I was as stiff as a board and not going anywhere.

Then it feels like the black walls are closing in on me and I’m getting claustrophobic again. I feel like someone is watching me, ready for me to lose my concentration so they can come out and catch me. I try to fight it, but I swear that there was something in the corner of my eye, but every time I turned around to where I thought I saw it, whatever it had been was gone. I felt utterly trapped. I felt unsafe and I just wanted to have protection.

And then I’m back inside my body and there is no oxygen going into my lungs and I feel like I was dying and I suddenly wanted to be a spectator again. I continued to try to fight for air, crying out, trying to find someone, anyone, to help me, but deep down I knew I was alone. 

I’m hitting my fists against the air itself, trying to break through the nonexistent barriers that kept me confined. 

Now I’m back on the outside of my body and I can see everything around me, and I swear someone is staring at me, but I know no one is really there. And I’m flipping around, trying to catch whatever is stalking me, but there is nothing there. I need to get out of here and fast, but I didn’t want to be back in my body again because I can still see myself and I can still see the way I am screaming and I don’t want to go back to that.

But I do, and I am again in my body and I cannot breathe at all. I need nothing more than air, but I can’t get any. I just need that oxygen to live and then I’ll be alright. But, I’m dealing with so much more than just not being able to take a breath. My claustrophobia is setting in and practically overpowering me. I don’t know if my inability to breath is because of the phobia I have or because I’m having a panic attack or just because there isn’t enough air. And I’m taking gasping breaths and I’m hunched over, holding my stomach with my eyes pressed closed, trying to get it all to stop. 

Tears are forcefully being squeezed out of my eyes. I just want this to all quit, I don’t care if it means living again, and I just need this to end. 

Once again I am on the outside, trapped staring at my tortured self. I try to break free from whatever binds are holding me back. Maybe if I can get to myself, I can stop this. But whatever is restraining me isn’t going to give up and I’m stuck here, looking at myself practically being tormented. I see every little detail as though it is being highly defined. I want to look away but my eyes are fixed on it. 

Now I’m back to the invisible box, not being able to breathe. I am crouched down now, trying so damn hard to suck in just a single breath to give me the strength to get out of here, but no matter how much I try, it won’t work. The tears are getting into my mouth and choking me, making me breathe it in. Now I’m trying to cough it up, while still being unable to breathe, and it’s just not a good combination because now I cannot breathe at all. I wonder if I can just suffocate and then maybe I’ll die and it will all just stop. But then I remember that I may already be dead, so what’s the point? And I know I read something a long time ago that says it’s impossible to suffocate yourself because instincts kick in and they force you to breathe. So, I’m stuck here in this place where torture is all you experience, no matter how hard you will it to stop.

Oh, would you look at that, I’m staring at my crying body again. I’m now practically lying on the floor, coughing and sucking in at the same time, making this horrible wheezing sound that literally pains me, considering I’m the one actually going through it, though I cannot feel it right now. I still feel the eyes on me, and I continue to look for the small little things that pop up in the corner of my eye, because I’m afraid that if I don’t, it will come for me. And that’s when I realize I can move my head, but not the rest of my body and I wonder why I didn’t notice that before. It must be because whoever is doing this to me knows I’m seeing something and they know that it hurts me, so they purposely allowed me to only be able to move what will cause me torturous effects. 

And then I remember, the person doing this to me is me. 

And now I’m back to being suffocated and my head is running wild and I am constantly trying to suck in air through my nose while coughing up the tears that keep running down my face. I keep wondering why this can’t just stop. It feels as if though I’ve been through more torture than I have ever been in my life because of myself and I find that kind of scary, knowing that I can do this sort of damage to my own mind. My hands are pressed against the floor of the blackness and my head is lying in between my knees. I’m crouching down trying to breathe with no avail. I am getting some amount of oxygen; I know that, because if I hadn’t, I would’ve been dead by now. My body is trembling and my face is scrunched up in that ugly crying look, but right now I really don’t care because I’m practically on the floor dying currently.

Perspectives change again and I’m staring at my shaking body. I can’t decide which one is more torturous to endure; feeling the pain or watching the pain and knowing I can’t do anything to stop it. My neck is killing me and I swear I must have whiplash by now from turning my head so suddenly, trying to find the thing that is most likely not there. Every time I turn around, I see myself in pain and then I’m forced to look away, not only because it hurts to just look at myself, but because I keep seeing an imaginary object in the corner of my eye. 

I can’t breathe again and the invisible walls are closing in on me and air isn’t my friend right now. My forehead is laying on the floor now, my legs from the knees down supporting my body, while my thighs are in the air. One hand is on my stomach trying to calm it down and to stop my lungs from burning, while the other is pressed flat against the ground, clenching and unclenching as pain scorching through me from the lack of oxygen. The tears are flowing faster than I thought possible with eyes close, and they keep getting in my mouth and choking me and I just feel like I’m internally dying while something is keeping me alive on the very last line, one step away from killing me. 

And now I can see myself being attacked by nothing again while the shadows play tricks on my eyes and by now I’ve just gotten sick of it and I want to stop looking but I can’t. My eyes keep wanted to close, but if I close them, I know I’ll most likely just go straight back to not being able to inhale and that’s not so inviting right now. I feel something hot drip onto my collarbone and I realize now this me is crying, so both of us are crying when in reality there is only one. And my vision gets blurry from the amount of water pouring out of my eyes and I just want to collapse, but I’m strapped upward with no ability to move anything but my skull.

The breath is being sucked out of my body by what feels like a vacuum and as much as I try to take a breath I can’t. I need to lie down, but I won’t let myself give up like that. I need to fight this, I need to get air and if I lay down I’m literally giving myself up for a torture worse than it is right now and even though I don’t know if that’s possible, I think it is and if it is, I don’t want to have to go through it. 

There is something in the corner of my eye making me whip my head back and forth once again and I really just want to stop moving it all together.

I can’t breathe again and I am slowly leaning closer and closer to the ground and I try to fight it but it’s so tempting to just give up.  
I’m watching myself slowly die and I keep seeing things that aren’t there.

I can’t breathe and the ground is so inviting.

Something is watching me and I try to find it, but I’m so tired.

I give up and lay down all together, taking in the coolness of the black ground and closing my heavy eyes, enjoying the serenity it brings.

And then I wake up.


	3. Chapter Three

My eyes slowly flutter open. The bright lights practically blind me, making me pull my arm up to shield my eyes from the glare.

Big mistake.

A searing pain rips through my body as my injured shoulder is stressed. I cringe, gasping at the pain. I have to bite my lip to keep from screaming. I close my eyes again, slowly opening them so that they can adjust to the light. Once I can actually see again, I take in my surroundings. 

Crumbling walls, bloody floor, faded colors, a lousy chalkboard, that’s what I expect to see. 

But my fuzzy eyes were met with dull grey walls. My burning back is lying on an uncomfortable couch. I wanted to start screaming and freaking out, as I had no idea where I was, but I knew that wouldn’t solve anything; the only thing it would do is hurt me. 

I laid there for awhile, just calming down my shoulder and trying to remember what happened and how I got to where I was. I attempted to get up, but I was met with an agonizing feeling coming from my shoulder, so I knew it was no use. 

Even though I knew it was I bad idea, I softly called out.

“Hello?” Even that sent a strip of pain to my pounding head and I cringed, taking deep breaths, trying to make it stop. My mouth was dry and I wanted nothing more than a glass of water and an explanation. I could feel sweat stinging the corners of my eyes. 

Someone walks into the room, his dark clothes, tattoos, and piercing sticking out more than anything. His obviously dyed hair was pushed up into a quiff, brunette roots struggling to make their way to the surface. 

Most girls would be swooning, as he was extremely attractive. I mentally roll my eyes in disgust as I think of how many girls would probably act weak and fragile just for the benefit of staying with the boy longer. 

Too bad this boy was one I knew a bit too well.

“You’re finally awake.” He mutters, obviously taken aback. How long was I out? Whatever, I didn’t really care as long as I got the hell out of there quickly.

“No fucking shit I’m awake.” I hiss. I grit my teeth at the pain the words brought with it. His face shows obvious anger and I started to really wish I had just kept my mouth shut. This boy was capable of so many things; fatal things. 

He took a step towards me, as menacingly as possible. I immediately, and embarrassingly, flinch back from him. He smirks at my response of backing down. It was silent for a minute as we have a minor stare down. If there was one thing I was good at, it was shooting death glares. With all the shit I went through, I had a lot of practice. The eye contact was broken when he spoke.

“Are you just going to sit there like a dumb bitch or are you going to say something?” He says, obviously agitated. 

“Where am I and how did I get here?” I ask, just wanting desperately to get out of here.

His shoulders slump down a little bit. You wouldn’t have noticed the change in posture if you hadn’t been watching carefully. His entire stance changed in a very minuscule way. His knees bent, his back slouched, and his hands fell limp at his sides. 

“When I, uh, left you, as soon as I had driven away, I knew I had to go back. My temper got the best of me and I couldn’t just leave you there.” He almost had a look of concern until his eyes changed back to his bad boy attitude. 

“If someone had found you, you might have said something to them. I can’t have myself being taken away because you decided to be a dumb ass and fall on an itty bitty nail.” He growled. All my hope of being safe around him diminished. 

“Anyway, I came back and you were passed out. You kept mumbling ‘help me’ and stupid shit like that. I lifted you up and took you to my car. I brought you here and I cleaned you up a little bit.” I was bewildered at the fact he cleaned me up. I noticed then that I was wearing different clothes. They weren’t as revealing as my other clothes, but they weren’t exactly something you could go to work in. It was a low cut, somewhat tight, black band shirt and shorts cut off a little bit too close to my hip than I would have liked, but nevertheless, they were clothes.

“Wait, you changed me?!” I exclaimed, coming to the realization that it wasn’t exactly possible for me to magically change into different clothes. 

“Yeah. Nice ripped black bra by the way.” He smirks, something that he seemed to do a lot. I could feel my face flush. That little disgusting horny bastard.

The boy stepped forward again and pressed his hand to my forehead. I flinch away, not wanting him to touch me.

“I’m checking to see if you have a fever, fucking stay still. If you do, there’s no way in hell you’ll be getting out of here right now.” He grumbles as I tilt my head towards him so that my forehead was pressed into his outreached hand. 

“Crap, your skin is burning.”

He pulls back and walks quickly out of the room. I sit in awkward silence until he returns, with a glass of water and something in his hands. I practically sigh in relief at the sight of water.

“Here take this.” He drops two tablets into my hand and holds the glass of water out for me. I look suspiciously at the two small pieces, unsure if I could take them or not. For all I know they could be drugs or something that could possibly hurt or even kill me. My head swirled with all the possibilities of what the pills could hold inside them; crack, sedation powder, poison, etc. 

“They’re pain medication to relieve some of the pain from your shoulder and to calm down your fever. Just take them. Unless you’d rather suffer in the pain you are now.” The boy rolls his eyes. 

I take my chances and swallow the pills, downing them with water, relishing the refreshing gulp of liquid that ran down my throat. 

“What did you do to clean my shoulder?” I softly say, my head hurting even more with each passing second.

“Speak up!” He says a lot louder than necessary. It makes my head spin and I lie it back on the couch, closing my eyes and breathing in deeply, trying to make it quit. 

“What the hell did you do to clean my shoulder??” I reply louder than I had before. 

“Oh, I just took out the nail and poured some disinfectant rubbing alcohol on it. I sewed the gash and wrapped it up. Hopefully you don’t get an infection.” He explained. My eyes popped open.

“You sewed it together?? How did you know how to do that?” I asked curiously, but at the same time I was nervous at the fact he performed that type of aid to me. 

“None of your goddamn business.” He snaps, something in his eyes flickering, warning me not to press further on the topic.

“Ok. When will I be able to leave?” I ask, suddenly anxious. I needed to get out of here quickly. 

“With that deep of a cut, it might not be for awhile. It needs to heal completely before I can let you go. I can’t be having you reopen it and having to relive this entire escapade all over again.” 

I gape at him. 

“I have to fucking wait to be freed by you? I can barely handle looking at you knowing what you did to me!!” I quietly shout. Most people would be ashamed if someone called them out like that, but this boy isn’t like most people. A fiery rage spread through his eyes and his body tensed up.

“What I did to you? I fucking saved your miserable life!” He screamed, taking another step towards me. He was practically hovering over me now. 

But I wasn’t going to back down. 

“You left me to die! You left me there bleeding until you decided you couldn’t risk getting your ass caught so you came back and did some medical shit to me! You undressed me!” I lifted my head slightly so I was closer to his face. Each word was emphasized with the drops of saliva that flew off my lips as I yelled the words in his face.

“I didn’t want you to get your blood all over the couch! And it wasn’t like I didn’t mind undressing you.” As he said that, he laughed. I raised my eyebrows. Are you fucking kidding me? He’s laughing? What the actual hell is wrong with him?

“Why the fuck are you laughing?” 

“You’re just so fucking stupid. Why can’t you just sit there and keep your mouth shut? I saved your life. You should just thank me and be done with it. Instead you question me as though I was up for trial. You yell at me and disrespect me! You’re lucky I didn’t leave you back there!” By the end of the rant, he wasn’t laughing anymore. If anything, he was even more pissed.

I was about to yell back, but we were interrupted by a knock at the door. 

“Shit.” He swore. 

He backs up from me and walks to the door, checking in the window who it was before he opened it.

“What the hell do you want?” 

“Is that girl still here?” An extremely deep voice asked him. If I could tell anything from the voice, it was that whoever was speaking was about our age. I wanted to lift my body to look over the back of the couch, but considering I can barely lift my head, it wasn’t a good idea.

“God, yes she is. She’s quite the bitch.” The man chuckled; a low rumbling sound that could’ve been a bear if it didn’t talk. 

“Going to invite me in, Horan? Or are we just going to stand here and chat until I catch a cold?” The person asked. 

“Whatever. Get your ass in here.” I heard the door close and the blonde boy walked in with the other person. 

I was right, he was around our age.

He was tall, but wasn’t as tall as the one who ‘saved me’. He had black shaggy hair and blue eyes that were so pale they could have been mistaken for gray. If it hadn’t been for the snakebites on his lips, he could be a cute little boy band member. The rest of him showed different. He wore things similar to him; dark clothes, jeans, sneakers. He had tattoos scattered on his arms and I could see one peaking from under his shirt collar. 

“Damn, you’re hot awake.” The man says. I feel slightly offended and disgusted as his bluntness.

“Damn, you’re a dick awake or asleep.” I bite back, rolling my eyes in the process.

“Feisty.” He grins. “I’m Charlie.” 

“Nice to see you. Hopefully I won’t have to again.” I scoff; he was way too cocky for my liking. 

He just smiles again. 

“Most people would reply with ‘hi Charlie, my name is’, but no, you just insult me.” Charlie laughs.

“I like her, Horan.” I can’t help but have to hide a small smile at his boyish attitude. He was much softer than the other boy. Speaking of, I haven’t even heard his name yet.

“Hey, Blondie, what’s your name? I never got it. If I did, I was probably too busy bleeding to death to catch it.” 

“I’m Niall. Now that you know our names, why don’t you tell us yours?” 

“Haha, how about hell no?” I didn’t want them to know my name. They couldn’t. 

“Aw, come on. Please?” Charlie bats his eyelashes. 

“Charlie, from your appearance, I’d expect you to be one big asshole, but in reality, you’re like a little puppy dog, with a horny twist.” I laugh a bit as I say this. Charlie just smiles. 

“I’m not exactly your average ‘punk’.” He puts quotations around the punk, as though the word ridiculed him. 

Niall coughs, turning us away from our conversation. He almost looked angry.

“I think it’s time you go.” Niall grits his teeth together as he says it, turning to Charlie and giving him a push towards the door.

“But I was just getting to know her. She isn’t like the girls you usually bring back.” Charlie whines.

“God, why the fuck am I friends with you?” Niall mutters to himself. I pretend not to hear him.

“Wait, so Niall nearly kills girls on a daily basis?” I joked, even though it wasn’t funny. 

“Nah, you’re only the third.” Charlie winks at me and I chuckle a bit. 

The pain in my head was ebbing away as the medication set it. But as the relief started, so did my need to sleep. Pain relievers always made me sleepy.

I hold back a yawn as my eyes start to droop. I lay my head back down and my eyes start to close. Sleep just began to overtake me as I hear the front door open, signaling that Charlie was leaving.

“Bye.” I mumble and I hear a bit of laughing from him as I drift off into dreamland. 

“As I said before, I like her.” Is the last thing I heard.


	4. Chapter Four

As soon as my eyes close and I’m shoved into dreamland, it felt as though I was awake. I could clearly see everything around me in a way that I know I’ll remember it when my eyes open once again. You know how when you wake up, you only remember bits and pieces, yet all those feel like they happened when you were awake? That’s what this feels like, but it’s completely clear.

I’m standing in the dark, black place I remembered so well. With the walls that felt as though they were closing in at every moment and the suffocating blackness that surrounded you, it was a place that I had hope I’d never have to visit again. 

It’s the place from my dream. The torturous, heartbreaking, soul shattering realm. 

And it all takes place all over again. I’m suffocated and screaming silently and then I’m watching this from a different point of view. And it’s just a horrible and just as painful as the first time. It seemed to go on longer than the last and I still couldn’t wake up from it. Even though I knew I’d wake up from it at any moment, I still felt like deep down it would never end. 

And then my eyes fluttered open once again and my eyes were met with the light I had been craving so much. I was sweating again and my shoulder ached even worse than it had before. It was one of those aches where you knew the wound had been there for awhile. 

From the pale orange light filtering through the single window in the flat we were in, it was probably just after dawn; 4 or so in the morning. When I had last drifted off it was only slightly dark, maybe seven at night. 

The dream had gone on for over nine hours nonstop. 

Was this going to happen every time I fell asleep? Or was it just because I was so near Niall? I didn’t care, as long as it stopped. 

I tried to sit up and my shoulder shouted in disagreement, but I forced through the pain and sat up farther. I had to take short gasping breaths and grit my teeth and squeeze my eyes shut while just sitting there for a few minutes until the pain dulled. When it did, I tried to stand up. I needed to get out of here, I didn’t care what Niall or anyone said. I didn’t feel safe here.

But then again, you don’t feel safe anywhere. Says the little voice in my head that I knew to be my conscience. 

It was better to get out of here, whether or not I should stay. I only took one shaky step before my legs buckled and I fell to my knees. I heard laughter behind me.

“You look like a baby deer taking its first steps. You idiot, didn’t I tell you to rest?” Niall snickered. My eyes widened slightly at the sight of a shirtless boy, but I ignored it, the shame washing over me.

“Actually, you didn’t.” I snapped at him, embarrassment filling my cheeks. 

“Well, it’d be common sense. Doesn’t look like you have any of that.” He sneered and I knew it was obvious he wasn’t going to help me up. I’d have to do it on my own.  
I pushed up with my good arm and sat on the heels of my feet, taking a deep breath before slowly straightening my legs until I was standing. Once again, I stood there taking a few relaxing breaths before I try to step over to the door. I make it two tiny steps before my legs start to shake and sweat builds up on my forehead. How was I supposed to make it out the door and far away if I couldn’t even walk a meter? I couldn’t give up now. 

Four steps were all I made. 

I fell backwards, landing on my shoulder. I cry out as I feel stitches rip and blood start to leak out. I bite my lip to hold back a sob. 

“You fucking idiot!!” Niall shouts as he rushes over to help me. He pulls me up roughly by the arm. This is the part where he carries me bridal style to the bathroom to fix me up and be all concerned and sweet, right? Wrong. He lifts me up so his arm is around my waste and my head was in his shoulder, my chest pressed against his upper body. Even though I wasn’t all that short, my legs dangled a good foot above the ground. Niall was extremely tall. 

He walks through the flat and to a bathroom, all the time ignoring my muffled screams of pain in his shoulder. He sits me down on the toilet seat, a little bit rougher than he needed to. He nods his head to me and motions with his arms.

“Take your shirt off.” He demands.

“No!” I shout, raising my eyebrows. I wasn’t going to take my shirt off in front of him.

“Take your goddamn shirt off you dumb ass!! It’s your own fault you tore your stitches!!” He screams in my face. I’m not going to lie, he scared me. I did as I was told, and I covered my chest with my arms. It sent pain through my shoulder as the skin was stretched, but I was too insecure to put my arms down. 

“Turn around.” I obeyed, and turned around so my legs were on either side of the seat. 

“Take off your bra.” 

“That I am not doing.” I respond, shocked he would suggest it.

“I can’t stitch it up correctly if you don’t? Would you rather bleed to death?” He says the last part in a sick and twisted way. I cringe at the growl in his voice and at the memory those words brought with it. 

I try to reach back behind me to unclasp the thin covering, but the pain overpowered me. When I did that the skin in my shoulder bunched up, making it hurt so badly. I was going to try again when rough hands touched my back. I set my hands in my lap as he easily unhooked it. I’m not even going to think about how he knew how to do that in such an easy way.   
I shrugged the thin sleeves off as the material fell away from my body. I was very glad my back was facing him because I didn’t need Niall seeing the dark redness of my face. He slowly pulled off the wrapping that covered the wound. When he set it down on the sink counter, I held back a gasp at the blood that soaked it.

“Ok, I’m going to take the previous stitches out. You’ll probably feel a little tug.” I could hear the smirk in his voice and I didn’t want to know if it was because of my lack of covering or because of the pain he knew I was about to endure.

When he slid out the string, I could literally feel the flesh widening at the newfound freedom. It didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, but I still winced as I felt a drop of blood run down my back. 

“Now for the fun part. I’m going to sew your skin back together. This will hurt only a little bit.” He stopped to loop the string through the needle that seemed to be double the size of an ordinary one. When he tied the end of the knot I turned away, bracing myself for the pain. 

Without asking if I was ready, he dug the needle into my shoulder. 

This will only hurt a little bit, my ass. The pain was excruciating. It couldn’t get any worse than that.

Guess what, I was wrong again!

When he slid the needle to the other side of the gash and pulled so it would close, it felt as though my body was being ripped in half. I wanted to scream so badly, but I held it in, with much effort.

All I let out were little whimpers as he finished. He slathered some alcohol over it to keep bacteria away, making my skin burn as though it was on fire. He pulled out another bandage and laid it over my skin. When it was all concealed, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The bandage soothed the ache slightly, as though there was some type of medicine soaked into it. 

I put my bra back on quickly, even though my shoulder was not having it. When I pulled my shirt over my head, I turned around to see Niall leaning against the wall. 

He had that stupid smirk on his face again. 

“Damn, I thought you were going to burst into tears for awhile there. Don’t try walking again. The blood loss doubled with the pain will make you pretty weak and dizzy.” He countered.

“No shit.” I spit back, offended by the way he said it. He always sounded like everything was one big hilarious joke.  
“Well, you don’t have any common sense, so I didn’t think you’d know.” He laughed. I wanted to get up and slap him across the face, but I was trapped and he knew that. I just awkwardly sat there as he had his laugh. I rolled my eyes, my brain telling me to get up, but that would make me look like even more of an idiot. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you back to the couch.” He pulls me up so I’m standing, and I wobble a little bit. I start to fall, but he catches me, before letting go as disgust crossed his face. 

He’s disgusted because he touched you. Not surprised. Says that little voice in my head again, taunting me. I had always hated the way my mind seemed to despise me more than anything. 

Niall picked me up like a small child once again and brought me through the halls until we reached the living room. He plopped me down on the couch and just walked away, going back the way he came. 

So, was I just supposed to sit here and do nothing? The physical exhaustion from the little escapade flowed through me and I just lay back against the couch, resting. I wanted to sleep so badly, but I didn’t want to risk having that nightmare again. Twice was enough. I don’t think I could handle a third. 

So I kept myself busy by taking a closer look around the small room I was placed in.

At first glance, it looked quite dull and boring, but if you start to study it, you can see more to it. There was a certain beauty to the plainness of it.

There were no pictures, which I inferred meant he either had a bad childhood or he just didn’t want to remember who he used to be. 

There was a single clock on the wall, nothing special about it. It was just an ordinary clock.

The couch beneath me wasn’t cloth at all, but really, worn leather. I could tell it was old and had been used a lot. And there was a certain stain I didn’t want to take the time to think about. 

It was the only piece of furniture besides a smile coffee table sitting in front of it. It was dark wood and there were cracks in it. The table seemed like it would fall soon, rickety and wobbly.

I wonder why. The little sarcastic voice in my head pipes in.

Probably because of the many girls he’s fu- Stop, I tell the voice. I didn’t want it to continue with that thought. It was obvious why the small table was so unstable and it wasn’t because of the kind of use it was made for.

The walls were a gray-white color that almost looked silver in the sunlight that was now beaming through the windows. 

Nothing sat on the mantle. And that was it. There was literally nothing else to it. 

The flat wasn’t anything extraordinary and to some people it may seem dull, but it wasn’t all that uncomfortable. The emptiness made it feel as though there was so much promise in what it could be; that it was just waiting for memories and happiness to fill it and make it a home. 

Home. Doesn’t sound too familiar, does it? The little voice sneered. And even though it was right, I still didn’t want to stay here. I didn’t feel like I was safe at all and the yearning to be back where I felt like I belonged was overtaking me. 

I knew that I’d have to wait, though. As much as I hated Niall, as much as I wanted to leave, as much as my legs begged to carry me out the door, I knew I couldn’t. There was no way I could make it to the door. 

So, I just had to wait. 

And while I was waiting and staring at the silver walls, I began to think about the nightmare. 

Why did it happen more than once? They say you dream about the last thing you thought about, but I knew I only had heard Charlie leaving and nothing else. I didn’t dream of Charlie walking out the door, I dreamt of me being suffocated in never ending blackness. I’d never had that dream before until I had passed out. 

It was all so strange. I almost didn’t want to sleep because I couldn’t bear to relive that all over again.

But you deserve it; the pain. 

Stop. I do not.

Yes you do. You know you do.

No I don’t.

You are so horrible and worthless that you need that pain so you can feel the pain you bring to others by existing.

Stop. 

You didn’t die because Niall wanted you to suffer through surviving because he hates you. Just like everyone else.   
No, he couldn’t let me bleed there to death.

He wanted to. He just wanted you to hurt like you did when he stitched you up.

Stop!

You deserved all the pain you got and more. You deserved it. 

No I didn’t!! Stop it!!

The voice had never been this bad before. When I usually told it to stop multiple times it did, but this time it was persistent. My conscious is being especially cruel today.

You fucking deserved it and we all know you did! Don’t deny it! You know the truth!

You’re lying! Stop!

I’ll never stop. Because you deserve this.


	5. Chapter Five

As I lay there staring at the silver-ish walls, the voice in my head continued to taunt me. As much as I fought back, it didn’t stop. The sun climbed up the sky, brightening the outside world. It was an unusually nice day here in England. Most people would say it was beautiful, but it was only a bit of sunlight that forced its way through the dark clouds that layered the sky. 

‘Worthless. That’s all you are.’ The voice was relentless. The more I responded, the harder it returned with worse and worse insults. When I didn’t respond at all, when I tried to hold back, it attacked me in even more torturous ways.

My entire life, the voice had never been this bad. It had come and gone once in awhile. It always returned with the same words to make sure I knew how despised I was. This amount of hate was strange, and almost physically painful.

My shoulder was still burning from the alcohol seeping into it and the headache was making everything worse. The physical exhaustion along with this pain made me wish for nothing more than to fall back into darkness, but the nightmare was still haunting me.

I knew I had to sleep at some point, but the farther away in time the better.

So, the only option was to take the emotional and physical pain. 

It was getting harder and harder to bear as the day went on and the pain reliever wore off. Even though I knew there was someone in the room next to mine, I felt more alone than ever. 

My mind was still having a mental war. Words clashing throughout the barricade of my skull, making it pound from the pressure being placed on it. I lift my hand to pinch my nose to attempt at relieving the pain, but that just made my shoulder ache even more. I wanted pain killers more than anything, but I knew they would put me to sleep.

What hurt worse; agonizing mental and emotional pain that messed with my mind for hours on end until I was sure I was going crazy or a throbbing pain that was physical and could be stopped by sending myself into the other pain? If I stayed in the state I was now, only feeling the pain in my body, then I would be hurting less, right? That was my logic. So, I have to stay awake and deal with it. 

I hear a shot somewhere outside and a distant scream. It would have chilled most people to the bone, but I was used to it. It was quite common in this part of England and you would be surprised at how many deaths there was every month. Gangs, drug dealers, prostitutes, you name it. They would all be found on the streets here, less than a mile away from each. 

There were a few more sounds of gunshots, each one getting closer to where we were. I wasn’t worried until I hear pounding and yelling from the room Niall was in. In the next second, he rushed into the room, shoving his phone in his pocket, making it evident that he had just finished a conversation.

“We have to go.” He picks me up like a child once more, rushing quickly to the back of the flat. I didn’t know what was going on and it was obvious Niall didn’t care about my shoulder enough to try to keep it from being pained by his running. 

The bullets continued to boom in the distance that wasn’t so distant anymore. It didn’t sound any more than a block away. When we reached the very end of the flat, we got to a door. When Niall swung it open, it led to a damp hallway with faint lights lining it. The carpet was stained with things I didn’t want to think about and it smelled of rat and rotting flesh. We turned into it, my hands clutching his shirt and his arm wrapped just under my ass, supporting me. 

The gunshots were getting closer and I could hear pounding steps from the levels above us. They knew as well as us that we had to get out of there. I still had no idea where we were going and how Niall somehow knew that the gunmen were coming for these very flats. We kept running, winding around the halls until we came to a stop in front of elevators and a stairwell. Knowing we’d be safer if we were locked away in an elevator, Niall punched the down button, causing it to turn a light orange color. As we waited, I could feel his rushing breath against my chest. He was trying to catch his breath. 

“What’s going on?” I said in a childlike manner, cursing at myself for sounding so weak and innocent. He didn’t respond and just stared ahead. The shots were inside the flats now, I could tell. I heard screaming from many voice, old and young, as people were killed mercilessly. There was more than one person shooting, I could tell from the way there were shots from complete opposite sides of the building. I heard footsteps running down the hall we had just come from. The elevator still hadn’t opened. 

“Fuck.” Niall said under his breath as he tapped his foot, looking over his shoulder, trying to see where the rapidly approaching person was. I didn’t know if it was someone with a gun or someone fleeing. Either way, I just wanted to get the hell out of here.

“God damn it, where is this elevator!” Niall hissed. The steps had rounded the last corner and they were coming straight for the small room we were in.

“Fuck it.” He muttered and took off towards the steps as shots still rang out, just like the screams of the victims. As we took the first step down, the person made an appearance. Hoping what I would see was just a middle aged woman running for safety, I looked up. I was far from right. There, in black, tattoos’ covering any showing skin was a man that looked to be in his twenties. If you had seen him on the street, you would have just thought he was another teenage punk. If you hadn’t seen the sleek gun that laid in his hand. 

“Going somewhere Horan?” The man cocked the gun and I knew in a split second he could pull the trigger and one of us would be dead. 

Niall stayed silent. I started shaking in his grip, scared for my life as well as his. There was no way we could get out of this. Either way we were going to die. If we tried to take the stair, he would shoot us. If we tried to get on the elevator once it finally opened, he’d shoot us. If we offered him money or drugs or whatever he wanted, he’d shoot us. It was a situation that was not in our favor. And as this all runs through my head, the shots around the building start to become farther and farther in between as most are killed and the rest have escaped. 

“How about I make you a deal?” The man smirks, his finger still placed on the trigger. Niall’s face stays emotionless, not showing any sign of fear. He must have been at gunpoint before. I wouldn’t be all that surprised at all. 

“You leave the girl. Set her down on the floor and let me take her. You can be on your way after that. Just give me the girl.” I tense up. I’m pretty sure Niall didn’t care enough about me to risk his life for mine. He could just leave me with this sicko and not even think twice about it. 

When I looked up at his face I could see in his eyes his battling emotions. Whether to leave me to suffer or have us both die in a second. There was a tiny flicker of hope deep down inside me that he would somehow magically save us. But that hope vanished when he nodded his head.

“Ok.” He set me down on the floor and the man came and grabbed my forearm, sliding me across the floor. I was in too much shock to feel the pain in my shoulder. I looked at Niall with hurt filling my body. I felt as though I was backstabbed once again. When my eyes met his cold, dark, icy blue ones, I nearly broke down. There was literally no remorse in practically giving up my life to save himself.

“You coward. You god damn fucking traitor.” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. The man just chuckles darkly at my pain and lifts me up by my arm. I grit my teeth and hold back a scream. It felt as though my stitches had been ripped again. 

“You can leave; unless you want to stay and watch me torture her and use her until she’s dead.” The shooter says. Niall just turns around and starts to walk down the stairs.

My emotions were everywhere. Was I supposed to feel relieved that I was away from Niall? Or terrified that I was being left with this man? I couldn’t help but feel heartbroken at the face Niall didn’t even care that he had abandoned me with this horrible man. For some inexplicable reason, I thought out of all the people in my life, Niall would be the last one to leave me like that. I should have learned after the first time of him leaving me to die that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it again. I was internally hoping that this was another one of my sick dreams. 

‘Haha you’re going to die. Everyone will be so grateful.’ 

While all this drama happened I had forgotten about the voice. 

Oh, how did you forget about little ol’ me? I’ve been here since you were born and I’ll be here while you die. 

‘You see, Niall never cared about you. He left you to die. Again. I bet he was ecstatic about a chance to get rid of you. No one wants you here.’ 

But as distracting and horrific as the voice was, it didn’t stop me from realizing what was about to happen. The man locked his gun on Niall while his back was turned. 

He was going to kill him even though he made a deal. The whole this was one big scam. 

“Bye bye, Irish.” I used those three words to my advantage. I took all my strength and knocked the gun out of his hand just as he pulled the trigger. 

A shot rang out and blood splattered the walls. A man fell in pain as he gripped the skin that had just been penetrated by a bullet. He’d be dead in no time at all. 

The man’s gun flew across the floor as he laid on the ground in agony. Niall rushed over to me and lifted me up into his arms. He led me away from the bleeding man and to a corner in the room. 

“What? How did that happen? Who shot him? I thought you were dead. I thought he shot you. How did he get shot when you didn’t have a gun?” I spilled out questions as I hid my head in his neck, scared nearly to death and crying. 

The second I had heard the gunshot, my heart broke because I thought it had been Niall. I couldn’t bear the thought of possibly losing him and I didn’t know why.

“That would be me.” A voice I would have never though had the capability to kill someone said. 

“Charlie?” I say shocked, lifting my head up to see his pale blue eyes. His formerly boyish exterior was shed. He looked like a full blown gang member in my eyes.

“We’ll tell you later. We first have to get out of here.” Charlie said and we rushed down the flights of stairs. As we passed each level, there were bodies of some lying around and I shut my eyes, trying to block it all out. I’d always heard about this sort of thing, but never had experienced it in this way. 

When we reached outside, we were at the back entrance of the flats. There was a large black range rover waiting for us. Niall opened the door of the back seats and set me down. He closed it behind him and hopped into the driver’s seat, while Charlie climbed into the passenger’s. The windows were tinted from the outside, so there was no way to see inside, though we could clearly see outside. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here.”


	6. Chapter Six

The car ride was long and as hard as I tried not to, I dozed off. The adrenaline from the chase was gone and the exhaustion was too overwhelming. I was in dreamland peacefully for no longer than a minute when I was met with the horrid nightmares that I had hoped would never meet me again.

I was more than grateful when I was awoken from it. 

“Get out. Quickly.” Niall demanded, getting out of the car. I was sweating profusely and still slightly trembling. I set my hand on the door and opened it, bright light flooding into the car. I put one hand up to try and shield my eyes from it, the sudden burst of light making the small headache I had worse. I took a deep breath, calming myself, before jumping out and closing the door behind me. The second my feet touched the ground I felt dizzy and sick. My knees buckled and that’s when I remembered I couldn’t walk on my own. Niall sighed and rolled his eyes, coming to lift me up. Charlie was closer and I guess didn’t notice Niall was walking towards me because he gently picked me up off the ground and held my bridal style. He was much kinder than Niall and I felt better being in his arms than I had in the blonde boy’s. I heard Niall scoff.

We were at a somewhat nice looking house in what seemed to be the middle of nowhere. There was a house or two spread out along the country side. It was nothing like the busy city we had last seen. It was quiet and calm. I wouldn’t mind staying for awhile. Niall went back to the car and hopped in, driving it into a garage connected to the house. It was large and had a homey look to it. 

Charlie and I sat in a comfortable silence as we walked towards the house. My head was lying on his neck and my arms were against his chest. I felt like he was a big brother taking care of me, something I had never experienced. It was nice.

When we got to the door, a pale hand reached around us and clicked open the door with a key. I turn my head slightly so that I could see over Charlie’s shoulder and my eyes caught a flash of piercing blue; Niall. I hid my head once again, almost scared from the look of anger in the small glance I got. Charlie used his shoulder to push open the door and we walked in. I was met with a completely wooden house, almost like a lodge. It was gorgeous, with leather furniture. I saw stairs that obviously led upstairs, but I also saw ones that went down. This place was bigger than I expected. 

“Where should we go?” Charlie asked Niall, turning to face him. His back was ridged and he looked almost uncomfortable. His jaw was set. Why was he so angry?

‘Probably because you’re such a needy bitch who nearly got him killed.’ I nearly cringed at the sneer thrown at me. The amount of hate in its voice was vile. 

“Upstairs. Whatever room she wants she can have.” Charlie carries me over to the wooden steps. They were in a swirled formation, a hole in the ceiling leading us up to the second story. The steps kept going even after the second level, leading to another hole that was the third story. It stopped there. So, from what I could tell, it was a four story tall house. 

We stopped at the second, stepping onto the carpeted floor. 

“We’ll pass each one and look into it. Point out whichever you like and it’ll be yours.” We walked down the hallway, stopping to check out each room. The first one was probably any guys dream, with a shelf full of video games and consoles, a large flat screen TV on the wall. I shook my head at it and we continued. The next was plain and boring, a simple dark green themed room. There wasn’t much and I almost went for it, the voice in my head telling me I barely deserved the floor as a bed. But, instead we kept walking. There were two more doors, and the first one was another no. It was dark, the walls black and the curtains drawn. It had a depressed feeling to it. I don’t think there were any lights besides a small desk lamp. As we approached the last one I was scared to see what it held. 

I gasped when I saw it. There were two ceiling high bookshelves, stocked with hundreds of books. It was in alphabetical order, almost like a library. The room had a large window, which was almost the entire height of the wall. It made the room glow. The walls were a pale blue and it gave off a childish softness to it. The bed sheets were made out of a fluffy material I couldn’t place and the bed was large and comforting. There was a desk in the corner of the room with many pens, pencils, papers, and all kinds of art materials. 

“I’ll take it.” He smiles at me and sets me down on the bed. It was soft and I sunk right into it, lavishing the comfort that it came with it. 

“If you need anything, just call. I’ll be taking the first bedroom we saw.” He winked at me and I knew he was talking about the video games galore one. He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him and then I was engulfed in silence. I sighed deeply and took in everything that happened. I realized they never told me how Charlie got there. At the moment I didn’t really care. 

I stared up at the bookshelves, using my extremely well vision to pick out the titles. Most of them were older books, leading me to believe this house wasn’t exactly new. Call of the Wild, All Creatures Big and Small, Where the Red Fern Grows, etc. All older books. I didn’t mind much, though. Behind my entire bad ass façade, I was a huge reader. I haven’t been able to exactly read much lately, though. But, my parents used to read to me so much and because of that, reading always brought me happiness. It allowed me to lose myself in a story that wasn’t my own screwed up one. 

And the art and writing supplies would be used a lot, too. Drawing and writing were my strong points. I was always the top English and Art student in school. 

But for now, I was just lying down and relaxing. I turned my head to the side to look out the large window. At first glance, the outside world looked boring. If you took a closer look, though, it was truly beautiful. Rolling green hills, tall trees, and a large pond could be seen from the room. As I lay there, every speck of life became relevant to me. I think I lied there for hours, just taking everything in and thinking. Thousands of thoughts and scenarios and dreams ran through my mind. When Charlie came into my room to carry me out for dinner, I felt cleansed, happier, and much calmer. 

Charlie lifted me up as though I was a feather and practically skipped downstairs. I took that time to take notice of the tattoo on his arm. It was of a phoenix, the words ‘the worst pain is not felt’ scrawled in beautiful writing at the bottom. It was quite pretty and the detail must have taken an agonizing amount of time and precision. 

He set me down in a wooden chair and walked into the kitchen, leaving me alone. There was slight banging around until Niall walked out, taking a seat at the head of the table. I was only two seats away from him, but I was happen for that gap. I could feel his eyes burning a hole in my head as I kept my eyes trained on the window that was in front of me. It showed the large pond I saw from my room. 

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Charlie burst into the room, filling it with his boyish happiness, immediately making me feel better. He was carrying a roasted chicken. He set it down on the table before hurrying back in the kitchen, returning periodically with other items of food; rice, vegetables, gravy, etc.   
We ate in silence; the only sounds were clinking of forks against plates or glass cups being placed back on the table. 

“So, about earlier. Are you going to explain why Charlie was there and what the hell was going on?” I pondered, breaking the quiet. The two boys in front of me shot looks at each other, as though they were sending telepathic messages. 

“Well, um, Charlie lives in the building and he was trying to leave when he found us. He knew there was no way to save us as well as himself without shooting the man.” I could see through the lie he was telling, but I went along with it. Niall would most likely get angry if I accused him of not telling the truth.

“Why did he have a gun?” 

“He found it, probably dropped from one of the shooters.” Lie. 

“Why were there shooters here in the first place?” 

“There are plenty of shootings there. It just happened to come to my building.” Lie. 

“How did the shooter know your name?” 

“I’m known around here for things.” Lie.

“What things?” 

“Will you quit asking all these damn questions?!” He blew up. I jumped a bit. I should have known he would have gotten worked up. I knew everything he was saying was a bunch of bullshit. My entire life I dealt with many liars, most of those deceiving and good at what they did. I had just learnt to separate the truth from the lies. 

I nodded and looked back down at my food, the silence resuming as we ate. 

“I’m finished.” Charlie announced. I quickly stopped eating.

“Me too.” 

“I’ll take our dishes to the sink and then I’ll bring you up to your room, ok?” Charlie asked, already reaching for my plate. He carried the plates away and again I was left by myself with Niall. I could hear him still eating, but I knew he was glancing at me every couple seconds. 

“Okay, let’s go.” I turned so that Charlie had easy access to picking me up. As we walked to the stairs, I could feel Niall staring at us. When we finally escaped his gaze, I looked up at Charlie.

“When the fuck am I going to be able to walk on my own.” He laughed loudly. It was contagious, causing me to smile. He didn’t answer though, and I was soon left alone with my thoughts as he closed the door behind him after laying me down on my bed. The sun was setting at a fast pace and my view of it was extraordinary. The shades of oranges and reds immediately made me sit up to go to the paint supplies. I slowly stood up, gripping the side of my bed for support. I slowed the dizzying down enough until I could take my first step. I held onto anything I could as I made the journey to the desk. When I finally sat down on the rolling chair, I let out a hefty sigh. I was worn out from just that. 

I glided towards the desk on the wheels of the chair, letting myself childishly smile. The figurative light-bulb went off in my head. I experimented quickly and found out it was extremely easy for me to move while sitting in the chair. I guess I found a new way move around my room.

I eventually rolled back to the desk and pulled out all the colors and brushes I would need. The paper I used was smaller than I usually would use, but it would work. The desk was perfectly positioned so that I had an amazing view of outside. 

My first stroke was a brilliant red. I kept painting and painting as quickly as I could, trying to get every detail before the sun completely set. I was in my own little fantasy as I worked; the world around me frozen and irrelevant. The final thing I did was quickly sign my signature in the corner. When I was finally finished, the sun had just dipped under horizon. I had paint on my clothes and face. I knew these weren’t my clothes, but I didn’t really care as I stared down at my piece. It wasn’t the best I could do, as I was in a rush, but it wasn’t horrible. 

‘That’s just a little first grade art project. It looks like absolute shit.’ Great to see you voice. That was another thing, whenever I read or drew or wrote, the voice would disappear just for a little while until I was finished.

I ignored it, my mind still in slight bliss from the calming activity of painting. But, I really needed new clothes. 

“Charlie?” I called out softly, not wanting to be too loud. When I got no response, I checked the bedside digital clock. Maybe he was asleep. 

10:18 p.m. it read. He had to be awake. I called out his name a little louder and after a few seconds I could hear his footsteps coming. 

“Everything alright?” He opened the door, poking his head in. 

“Um, I got paint on these clothes. Would you by any chance have any I could borrow?” I shyly asked, dipping my head down a bit. 

“Sure.” I heard the grin in his voice as he jogged away. In a few seconds he was back with neatly folded sweatpants and a t-shirt. I roll my way over to him, using the furniture around me to propel myself forward. 

“Smart.” He chuckled, handing me the clothes. He peaked over my shoulder a bit, obviously catching a glance at my painting.

“Could I see?” He asks kindly.

“Okay. But it’s not very good.” I say in embarrassment, almost wanting to deny him the ability to see it. I roll back to the desk with Charlie following behind my. When we reached it, there was silence. I looked down at my lap in shame. 

‘He knows it’s horrible. He’s just too polite to say it. But he’s too disgusted to even try lying.’

I turn around to look at him and all I see his him gaping at the paper.

“You drew that?” He gasps out. 

“Yeah, it’s shit, I kn-“

“That’s bloody incredible!!” He exclaims in awe. 

“No, it’s really not.” 

“Do I need to get a lawyer, because I need you to know how amazing that is?” I blush, looking away. 

“Wow. Anyway, I’ll leave you to change. Keep that painting, I want to frame it or something.” I smile at him. He walks out of the room and with every step he takes, I debate on telling him. If I do, I may get stabbed in the back. Or he’ll tell Niall, and I don’t want him to know. But, I feel like I trust him enough to tell him. He’s so nice to me and I feel like keeping it from him is selfish. What if he judges me for it or something? Should I tell him or not? He’s leaving, he’s about to walk out of the damn door! It’s now or never.

“Hey, Charlie?” I say softly, half hoping he wouldn’t hear me so that I could just chicken out. 

“Yeah?” 

“My name is Charlotte.” And he just sends a large grin my way, teeth and all, before closing the door behind him.


	7. Chapter Seven

After much pain, labored breathing, and grimaces, I finally got into the overly large clothes. They felt soft against my skin and I felt like a little kid who wore their dad’s sweatshirt because they got too cold. I checked the bedside clock.

11:02 p.m.

I wasn’t exactly excited for the upcoming night of trying to keep myself awake. Letting that dream come back would be mental suicide.

‘How many times do I have to tell you? You deserve it. So just sleep.’ The voice would be a great help, too. It gave me an encouragement to stay awake and not allow it to win. 

I pulled a book from the shelf, To Kill a Mockingbird. This was one way to stay awake. 

After reading halfway to the book, my attention was torn from my book by a noise. It immediately chilled me to the bone. It was something I had heard a lot. Every time I heard it, it numbed me more to it. But, no one could ever be completely fine with it.

Screaming. Horrible, terrifying, shrieking. It wasn’t an elated scream or someone simply getting scared. It was a tortured, choking scream. It was coming from somewhere in hills behind the house. It kept going on for what seemed like hours, but when I checked the clock, it only continued for about three minutes before it was abruptly silenced. I choke in a breath and squeeze my eyes shut tightly as all the scenarios of what could be happening to that woman ran through my mind. I had seen so much in my life that I had plenty of ideas. 

I got that childish fear that whatever was out there hurting that woman would come to get me. It made me want to go into one of the boys’ rooms and ask to sleep with them. But I was alone. Just like I had always been. 

I kept reading until the bright red lights signaled to me that it was about four in the morning. I was getting a headache from reading while I was tired. Every two seconds, my eyelids tried to force themselves closed. I wouldn’t let them. So, instead, I rolled over to the desk. The sun was slowly starting to rise, making it just barely visible outside. I drew anything that came to mind for awhile; simply sketching with a pencil. When it was five thirty, my head slipped from my hand and fell onto the desk. My breath started to deepen and ever so slowly, I began to fall asleep. A loud bang from downstairs is what stopped me from completely falling. 

A panic swept through me as I thought of the woman and whoever had been torturing her like that. I bit my lip and tried to push away all the terrified thoughts. The loud noises continued until I heard footsteps walk into the hall. I thought of all the ways I could escape, but because of my injury, I couldn’t do anything. I just waited for the door to swing open with my death. 

It went silent for a bit, the only sounds the creaking of the footsteps still wandering down the hall. I held my breath. The door slammed open and I let out a small scream. In the dawn light, I could only make out a figure. I rolled back, trying to get away. A voice stopped me.

“Do you hear that?” Charlie’s drowsy, deep voice asked. I let out a huge sigh of relief.

“You scared the absolute shit out of me.” I gasped. I could see him smile slightly, before both our faces went back to seriousness as the noises started up again. 

“What do you think it is?” I ask, trying not to have my voice shake. His shoulders shrug.

“Do you want to go check it out?” I could sense a slight boyish fear in his voice that almost made me smirk.

“Okay. Is Niall awake?” He shook his head. 

“Can you walk?” 

“Let me try.” I shakily stood up. I took one step that sent a wave of pain through my shoulder, but I didn’t fall. I took another. And then one more after that. It was a slow process, but I finally made it to the door. 

“Can I use you as a support? I want to go down there, too.” He nods and slips his arm around my waist. I grip his bicep and we make a faster departure down the stairs. I notice Charlie’s hand on his side as if he was holding onto something. I catch a quick glimpse of shining black metal. 

A gun. 

It gives me a slight amount of relief knowing we have something to protect ourselves from; but it also frightens me knowing what he is capable of. 

‘Let’s hope he uses his gunmanship on you.’ 

The noises are coming from the kitchen. My grip on him tightens as his does on the gun, and fear is pounding through me. All the light switches were located just outside the kitchen door. We’d have to get there before having the ability to see. Thoughts of what is could be run through my head a mile a minute.

Killer.  
Wild animal.  
Niall.  
Demon.  
Possessed child.  
Ghost.  
Dog.  
Homeless person.  
The wind.

 

It could be anything. But the only thing that kept returning to me was the screaming in the hills and who was causing that being in the kitchen.

Every step made me sure they were going to hear us each time. Every breath made me think they’d be able to decipher where we were and when to pounce. Every beat of our hearts was going to rat us out. 

We were nearly to the lights now.

‘Let’s hope what is in there will kill you.’

‘If it attacks you, Charlie will help it murder you.’

‘Charlie only brought you with him to use you as a sacrifice; as bait.’

Every time the voice rang through my head, I flinched. It was a savage, eating me out from the inside, slowing breaking me down.

We were a step away from the lights when I heard something scurry out of the kitchen. It brushed against my ankles and I screamed. I felt it sink its small teeth into my leg and scratch at my calves with its claws. I just kept screaming, trying to get away from it. Redish eyes glinted in the pale light. I had lost Charlie’s grip and fallen to the floor. I was flailing now, trying to get away from the scratching beast. I knew now that it wasn’t human. I heard Charlie running around, trying to reach the light switches. 

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” I shriek, trying to crawl across the floor, but it just kept digging its claws into my bare legs. Finally, the lights flickered on.

A raccoon squinted in the light, scrabbling to get away from it. It runs into the kitchen and out of an open window. There is a minute of Charlie and I trying to catch our breath and letting what just happened.

“Holy shit.” I breathe. 

“Your legs.” Charlie’s eyes widen as I look down at them. Scratches line them, deep and shallow, long and small. There was a teeth mark just above my ankle that was bleeding badly. The sting of them starts to set in and the pain of my shoulder being moved around so furiously hurt almost as much as it originally had. 

“What the fuck is going on down here?” Niall’s groggy voice comes from the stairs. We watch as he walks down them and towards us. When he sees my legs, there is no emotion in his eyes.

“If you guys are going to have rough leg sex, then please be quieter.” I almost laughed at that. But my pain stopped me.

“There was a raccoon in the kitchen. While you were too busy sleeping, it attacked her.” Charlie explained. He laughed. I raise my eyebrows slightly at him.

“You can’t even fight off a fucking ten pound animal?” I roll my eyes as Charlie helps me up and leads me to a nearby bathroom. I sit on the toilet as he looks through the cabinets, pulling out various first aid supplies.

“This is going to sting like hell.” He warns before spraying disinfectant all up and down my legs. I grit my teeth as I grip the sides of the toilet, holding back a groan. 

‘He’s enjoying seeing you in such pain. I am too.’ But I was in too much pain to bother to reply. 

It finally begins to soothe the cuts and I relax as Charlie rubs Neosporin all over them. He finishes it off by wrapping it with bandages. I lean my head back against the tile wall, taking a few deep breaths.

“Well, that was exciting.” I joke, trying to stand up. I suppress a moan of pain. My shoulder killed, but I could tell that the stitches weren’t ripped because there was no blood and I could feel the binding. 

“You need support?” He asks. I just nod my head, returning to our previous stance. We walk out into the living room. He sits me down on the couch. I’m facing the television that seemed to be the only new thing in this house. He handed me the remote and told me to do whatever I wanted. I was extremely confused at what all the buttons meant. I hadn’t watched a TV in years. I pressed the ‘on’ button and had no idea what to do next.

‘Fucking dumbass. Doesn’t even know how to work a damn TV remote.’ And at the moment I agreed with it. I felt like a complete idiot. I just decided to watch whatever it came up to. It was halfway through something I didn’t understand, but I went along with it. The time bar in the corner told me it was almost seven. 

“Why the hell are you watching Cake Boss?” I hear a voice scoff. I turn around to see the ever popular blonde boy. 

“I enjoy baking and learning more about it. Maybe you should come join me. By the looks of it the only thing you can bake is in pregnancy terms instead of desserts.” I hiss, more out of embarrassment for myself than out of anger towards him. 

“Whore.” He mutters under his breath. Usually I would just ignore a comment like that, but my tiredness was making my cranky and the pain was making me frustrated. 

“Say that to my face. I fucking dare you.” I spit.

“Whore. You are a whore. W-h-o-r-e.” He says, smirking. 

“Okay, I said look at me, not into a mirror.” I say back. His pale face started to redden and I immediately realized that was probably not a good idea. His eyes darkened and he took a heavy step towards me. His eyes showed a look I’d seen in a predator watching its prey. I was about to get up and make a break from it. 

Thank God Charlie walked in at just the right time. 

“Breakfast is ready.” Niall’s head snapped towards him. When he turned back to look at me, his eyes were back to their normal state. He still looked angry. He nodded towards Charlie and walked out of the room, purposely hitting Charlie’s shoulder with his own. 

“What the hell did you do to piss him off again?” He says, though I could hear the joking in his voice.

“I may or may not have called him an impregnating whore.” I saying completely serious. I made my face look blank.

He just laughed at me. 

“You are fucking insane.” 

And though he meant it as a joke, he didn’t know it was nearly true.


	8. Chapter Eight

It’s been a week since the shooting and us arriving at the house. Niall keeps randomly disappearing during the night and coming back the next afternoon. He’s also kept up his asshole reputation in the house. Out of nowhere, he’d call me a whore or a bitch. Each time, I tried to ignore it, though I did snap a few times. Each time resulted with him saying something even worse back or his eyes darkening. Whenever the latter happened, Charlie either stopped it or he nearly slaps me until I say something that snaps him out of it. 

The cuts on my legs were slowly healing. Most of them were merely scratches. The bite was still hurting, but it wasn’t infected and was healing nicely. Hopefully I wouldn’t show any signs of diseases the raccoon possibly could have given me. 

I’ve only slept twice this entire week. Each time I was haunted with the same dream. I was beyond tired and to the point where almost everything felt like it wasn’t real. I had a constant headache and I felt weak almost all the time. Every time I had a nightmare, it scared me out of sleeping until there was literally nothing I could do to stop my mind from shutting down and going into a slumber. I feel sick the majority of the time. There are dark bags under my eyes at all times and whenever one of them asks about it, I just say I was kept up reading or writing or drawing. I haven’t shown Charlie anymore of my drawings.

Charlie and I are pretty close now. We talk a lot and I wear his clothes most of the time, even though I had a few different outfits to choose from that Niall somehow managed to get a hold of. They were more comfortable and much less revealing. From what I could tell, he hasn’t told Niall my name yet. Niall keeps trying to weasel it out of me, but because of the way he treats me, I’m not exactly too trusting of him.

Currently I’m in my room writing. Out of all of my three talents, writing is my favorite. I enjoy losing myself in my imagination as the words practically spill from my pencil onto the sheet of paper. What I was writing right now was a story about the struggles of self harm and self hate. 

[ I looked in the mirror, taking in every inch of myself. I couldn’t find a single piece of beauty. All I saw was fat, oil, acne, ugly. Just looking at myself made me want to shove my fingers down my throat and pile every cosmetic in the bathroom on my face. I wanted to scrub all the oil and pimples off my face with a razorblade, making sure all that was left were perfection. I reach down pinch my stomach skin with my fingers. I bunch the flesh around my jutting ribs in my hand, feeling the failure of losing weight. I stare at my naked body, picking out every imperfection there was, listing them in my mind so I could recite them to myself whenever I thought about taking a bite of food. I lean my head against the mirror and shut my eyes, putting a hand against my mouth to hold back a choked sob. I was disgusting. I regretted the celery stick that I couldn’t help myself from eating, feeling each calorie it had sink deep in my stomach, weighing me down. I had gotten so dizzy; I couldn’t stop my meaty hands from grabbing and pushing into my mouth. I was good for so long, eating only when I was forced to and then making it come back up right after. I flatten my palm against the wall, curling my fingers and trying to sink my nails into the barrier. Tears fell down my face as I thought of how horrendous I was. And with each teardrop, I told myself how weak I was. Once I recomposed myself, I walked into the bathroom and lifted up my fat fingers, aligning them with my mouth. I quickly force them to hit my gag reflex, not stopping when my throat tried to move them out. I felt like bile rise in my throat and I swear there was no better feeling than that. ]

A knock on my door stopped me from continuing. 

“Come in.” I mumble, coming out of the trance I went into every time I picked up a pencil and wrote. Charlie opened the door and closed it behind him, walking up behind me. I kept writing as he read what I had written so far.

[ I felt the small bits of food come up, along with the water I drank to keep my stomach full and to stop from passing out. I savored every moment of the fattening substance leaving my body, helping me from gaining a pound. Despite the fact the vomit burned my throat and made tears prick my eyes, I loved it. I deserved the pain anyway. I stood up to leave the bathroom, but I didn’t feel like just forcing myself to throw up was enough. I knew just what I had to do. I reached under the sink where my razor was hidden. It was taped to the bottom of it. When I felt it prick my finger, I almost giggled giddily. ]

Charlie’s hand stopped me from starting my next sentence.

“Okay, that’s enough writing for right now. Want to go walk through the hills behind the house for awhile?” I nodded in response, setting my pencil down and standing up. I gripped the chair for a second as everything went dizzy and bright from standing up too quickly. I put on the same battered converse I wore the day Niall nearly killed me. 

We walk out of the room, Charlie calling to Niall that we were going to go on a walk. Since the night of the raccoon attack, my walking abilities had become much more advanced. 

We stayed on a trail for the most part, just talking about little things. It was slightly cold, as winter was approaching. The overly large jacket that was, in fact, Charlie’s kept me warm, though. 

“You’re writing is excellent, by the way. There are so many details that it makes you feel what the character is.” Charlie comments. I blush, smiling slightly. I knew my writing was okay, but he over exaggerated it by a lot.

“Not really… it’s nothing special.” 

“Okay, I really need to get that lawyer.” He says. I laugh at that. We were pretty far in the hills by now, though we could still see the house from where we were. 

“Where’s Niall been going at night?” I ask casually, even though I was dying to know. He looks at me uneasily.

“I don’t know; probably just running errands or something.” He shrugs, but I could see through his lie. I always did.

“You’re lying. Where is he going?” I ask more firmly. 

“Places.” He vaguely says. 

“With all my years of lies, I know when I’m hearing bullshit. You know and you aren’t telling me.” I snap, my tiredness having its cranky effect as usual. 

“I can’t tell you.” 

“I can’t believe you! I thought we were closer than that. If you think by not telling me, it’ll protect me, then you-” But I’m cut off by my own choked scream. I stumble back, not believing my eyes. Memories from the night a week ago resurface. This is what I heard. I had forgotten about it when we set off into the hills. If I had known we would find this, there was no way in hell I would’ve stopped writing.

A body. A dead body. It was the body of the woman I heard screaming. Her body was extremely deformed, a leg bent in a way it should never. One of her arms was hanging on by a shred of skin. The blood that covered her was dried, making it look black. Half her face was already eaten away by the bugs that covered her body. I could see slits all over her, where a knife had cut deep into the skin. There were holes, most likely also from a knife. Her clothes were ripped, exposing more cuts. I also so burns. Many, many burns. Some of the skin was black from it. There was a spot on her face that had a clear burn hole, exposing the inside of her mouth. Her long brown hair was knotted and there was so much blood in it that you could have easily mistaken her for having black hair. I saw maggots crawling in and out of her body. 

“Holy shit. Fuck, oh my god.” Charlie gasps, backing up just as I had. We stand there for a few seconds, just taking in the scene. I hid my head in his shoulder, trying to shield myself from seeing what was in front of my. Tears squeezed out of my eyes as I sobbed. They were scared and shocked tears. 

And then we start to run. I run as fast as I possibly could, trying to get as far away as I could. The image of the woman would forever be imprinted in my mind. We keep running until we are close to the house. We only stop because I couldn’t keep myself from vomiting. I threw up, kneeling on the ground. Charlie did the same. Then, we kept running. When we finally reached the house, we ran in. We walked in to see Niall on the couch watching TV. Charlie’s arm goes around me and I curl into his shoulder, crying my eyes out. Yes, I’d seen dead bodies before, but never like that. It had always been peaceful, pale, nice-looking bodies in a casket. No blood or gore. 

I tried to breath. I tried to make the image leave my mind, but it was burnt onto the inside of my eyes, to haunt me forever. We just stand there hugging, taking in everything that just happened, and ignoring Niall’s eyes on us. 

“What are you babies crying about now?” I turn to him, not caring that my eyes were red and swollen. I opened my mouth to speak, but I couldn’t put what I had just seen into words. I shook my head and hugged Charlie again. We just went up to my room. I sat on my bed and covered my face with my hands. I heard the door open, but I snapped my head up.

“Please don’t leave.” I whimper. 

“Good, I didn’t want to. I don’t think I can be alone right now.” Charlie whispers. I pat the spot next to me and he sits down, lying down on my bed. That’s when I really start bawling. I was probably one of the most badass looking girls you will ever meet and I have been through so much, my heart has hardened. But, that really woke me up. I couldn’t handle that. I don’t think that was anything anyone could handle. Just the thought that it could’ve been you and that someone out there is insane enough to do that to another human being is… horrible. 

“I c-can’t believe that-t.” I sob, crying into my hands. When I turned my head to look at Charlie, I could see tears falling down his face too. His expression was blank and dazed. I’m sure mine looked that same. I lay down, wanting to be in the safety of his shoulder again, but I didn’t know if that would make things awkward. But, he just pulls me closer and I cry into his chest as he cries into my hair. 

We stay like that for awhile, just crying and saying a few words here and there. When the tears finally slow, we lay there in silence. I listen to him breathe, trying to use that to calm myself down. I probably won’t feel safe alone for along time. I was really hoping he didn’t leave any time soon. Something tells me he was just as shaken up. 

Even though I felt warm and secure, I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Not because I didn’t want to, but because every time I close my eyes, I see the woman. 

I hold onto him for dear life, thinking that if I were to let go, someone would take me away and do the same thing to me. 

The nightmare didn’t seem all that scary anymore. As I think of the dead body, I start to think about the bodies I had seen before. That brings on another bout of tears. Soon, Charlie sits up. I flinch as my arm falls from around his side. I didn’t want him to leave. I felt better when he was around. 

“I’m not going to leave. I just want to try to distract ourselves.” 

“How?” 

“We can tell each other about ourselves. I want to get to know you better.” He says, smiling slightly through his tears. 

“You go first.” I say in a small voice.

“I was born on October 14th, 1992. I’m twenty. I have a sister. When I was seventeen, I started getting into some bad things. I had friends who were a pretty bad influence. They got me into drugs and drinking. I did things I should have never done. They told me it would be a good idea to join a gang. I had always been an outcast and I felt that if I denied them, they would leave me. So, I did it. I turned into one of those players who did drugs and was a part of a gang. I got tattoos and piercings. One day, my mom found cocaine in my room. She got my father and started to scream at me. I acted like it was no big deal, because at the time I didn’t think it was. They kicked me out of the house. I was angry at my friends, but I had grown so close to them that there was no way I could leave them. I was practically homeless. Niall was one of those friends. He took me in and we became friends. And then here I am. Sitting with a pretty lady that my best friend nearly killed.” He winked at me when he said pretty. I bite my lip and smile, blushing slightly. I knew we had more of a brother-sister relationship, but there were those tiny little butterflies that aroused every once in awhile when I was around him. 

“Now tell me about you.” He smiles. I sigh deeply as I begin my very long story. I was slightly scared he would judge me for it. Maybe even hate me. It was a horrible story, something some may pity and others may be disgusted. I didn’t want either. I wasn’t sure if I should tell him or make something up. But, he opened up his life to me. He was the first person I would ever tell this to.

I trusted him.


	9. Chapter Nine

“When my mother got pregnant with me, it was technically an accident. They hadn’t wanted a baby and resented it. Though, abortion was never an option for them. When I was born, they were originally going to put me up for adoption. But, according to my mum, the second they set eyes on me there was no way they could part with me. So, they kept me. They loved me like they never thought they could love a child. When I was three, my mum got pregnant again, this time not by accident. They wanted another child. At eight months, they lost the baby. She was devastated and swore she’d try for one again. She went into a state of depression. My dad promised everything would be okay, but it wasn’t. My mum committed suicide. In her suicide note, she said having me around all the time reminded her of what could have been. My father blamed me for her death. I’ve kept the note with me.” I didn’t tell him that it was because I wanted to remind myself how disgusting I was.

“He went practically mad from the loss. When I was five, my grandma got a phone call. I had been staying with her for the night. My father had driven his car off a bridge. According to witnesses, he was staring down at something in his lap, so he didn’t notice he was driving right to the edge. I later found out it was a picture of my mother. I stayed with my grandma until she died from lung cancer when I was seven. I had no other family. I was put into foster care. Eight years and nineteen families later, I ran away from the twentieth foster home I had been in. The family didn’t care about me and let me go. They didn’t even report it to the facility. That’s why I was never hunted down. Ever since age fifteen, I was alone. Until Niall nearly killed me and then brought me in. I guess we have something in common.” I smiled, trying to hold back the tears that pricked my eyes as I told the story of my life.

“Where did you live?” The question I was hoping he didn’t ask. I was praying that he would miss the gap of where I went after age fifteen. I wanted to be honest with him, but I had already said more than I ever had to someone. I tried to think of a convincing lie, but I had said I was alone for that long, which means I didn’t live with anyone.

Charlie sat there watching me patiently, waiting for an answer. I took one look in his pale blue eyes and I couldn’t stop myself. 

“I was homeless.” I whisper, shutting my eyes, waiting to hear the scoff of disgust and him leave the room. But all I heard was silence. I braved I peek through my eyelids and I just saw him looking at me in curiosity. 

“How did you survive?” He asked, not a trace of the disgust I was expecting to hear in his voice.

“Some people would take pity on me and give me some food or money. It was hard, but I’m here, aren’t I?” I say, trying to lighten the mood. It didn’t work. His curiosity turned into concern. Something I hadn’t seen in a long time.

“You’ve been homeless for four years? That’s horrible.” But there was not pity in his voice. I could tell he thought of me as a strong individual. 

“Yeah, but I don’t want to talk about it. I just want to lie here again.” I say in a small, childlike voice, lying back down. I didn’t want to talk about my life anymore.

He nods and lies down next to me. Like a small kitten, I squirm towards his warmth, curling myself into his side. With him, I felt safe. He was like a big teddy bear that kept away all the monsters at night. With my head on his shoulder and my hand limply on his chest, I close my eyes. I force myself not to fall asleep until I know he has. I sit up carefully, making sure I didn’t wake him. 

As creepy as it sounds, I watched him for awhile. I memorized every line of his face. He looked so peaceful in the slumber. His shaggy dark hair lying softly on his forehead made him look like any other teenager, not someone who was capable of killing a man. 

And as much as I told myself he was a big brother, I couldn’t deny I felt slightly more than that. I lie back down and just think for a little bit. The note from my mother, her suicide note, was tucked away in one of the desk drawers where I had hidden it when we first got here. I took it with me everywhere I went. I liked to hide it in my shoe while I was on the run. It was stained with blood, new and old. The old was from the cuts on her wrists when she wrote it. The new was from when I was on the concrete floor of the school.

As much as I trusted Charlie, I would never show him it. I don’t think I would ever show anyone. I was far from sleeping, too awake from thoughts. If I laid there waiting, I would fall asleep. And I couldn’t let that happen. So, I quietly stood up and padded over to the desk, taking a moment to look out the window. The first stars were coming out. I would paint, but I didn’t have the energy for that. Reading would just make me more tired, so I wrote.

I continued with the story I was writing, writing from where I had left off when Charlie first asked to go for a walk. That seemed like so long ago.

[I slide the blade out from under the tape it was laying on, almost like a hammock. I stare at it, admiring the way the light reflected off the metal. I had taken this one off of a shaving razor. It was about an inch long. Perfect. I take a deep breath, letting myself wait to build up on my anticipation. Soon, I couldn’t handle waiting anymore. I pressed the sharp metal against my skin, soft enough so that it would scratch, but not break skin. I wanted to savor all the pain I could. I look at all the white scars that lined my arm from the months of self hatred. I look up, catching a glance of myself in the mirror. This immediately causes me to push the razorblade harder against my write, breaking the soft scarred flesh. The skin around the cut puffed up from the touch, like some sort of balloon. Small maroon droplets pushed through the barriers of it, making their way to the surface. They were such a contrast to my usual pale skin. I just stare in awe at it. Then, I move slightly down on my wrist, pressing it to the skin again. Each time I make a cut, I feel instant relief. I relish the pain I feel every time my skin is damaged. And I think back to when I was a child and I was happy. I was the laughing girl who made jokes and had all the friends. I was so confident and joyful. I felt loved. I felt like there was nothing to bring me down. I don’t think anyone could have guessed what I would turn out to be; an insecure girl who hated herself. Crazy how things work out, aye? And then I make another cut. I list off all the things wrong with me that I had counted earlier, making a cut for each one. 

One for being fat.  
One for being a failure.   
One for being ugly.  
One for having a big nose.  
One for having gross hair.  
One for having dumb eyes.  
One for being stupid.  
One for having no friends.  
One for being impossible to love.  
One for having dead parents.  
One for never having a boyfriend.  
One for being the girl everyone hates.  
One for being weak.  
One for crying too much.  
One for starving yourself.  
One for everything that is wrong with you.  
One cut,   
Two cut,   
How about one more,  
You stupid slut?

And then I was finished, not having any more room on my arm. I stopped, even though I had hundreds more reasons on why I was disgusting. I stare at the blood for a little bit longer, looking at the only beauty that graced my body. Then I rinsed of my arm and the razor, putting it back in its place under the sink. I wrapped up my arm with a bandage to stop the bleeding, then leaving the bathroom. Back to hating myself in the cold silence of my room, like everyday.]

By the time I was finished, I was crying. This story brought back so many memories and thoughts. It was hard to handle. But, this was how I released the feelings I kept inside me; by writing. It was my escape. I hadn’t written in so long.

When you spend so much time on the streets, begging for someone to give you a parcel of food that will prolong your life, you don’t exactly have writing stencils at your demand. Writing again was amazing.

The moon was far in the sky and all the stars were out. I studied them, how each one seemed so little, when in reality, most of them were larger than the sun. 

 

I open the third drawer, pushing all the random objects to the front. I reach into the very back, pulling out a book. I go to page 284 and take out the folded note. I unfold it, taking care not to rip the fragile paper. Stained with red flecks, the white was covered in black ink. Hastily scrawled words filled most of it. Some of the writing was smudged, but I had memorized what it said. Each word was filled with depression and anger, some of it hardly making sense. You could tell the writer had been flustered while printing this, hurrying so they could finish it before they finished themselves.

It was my mother’s suicide note. 

It was something that had to stay hidden. I only pulled it out for a specific reason. 

What I was feeling and getting from Charlie was something I hadn’t gotten in awhile. It was rare and I almost forgot what it was like; love. 

And I didn’t deserve it. I practically killed my mother, who had loved me. So, I didn’t deserve love. I read the note over again, taking in each word of blaming that my mother wrote. It helped me remember how much of a horrible piece of shit I was.

When Charlie gave me that love it felt so nice and I felt like someone actually cared. I just had to remember that no one could ever love me, especially after all of the things I told him. 

I had almost fallen for it. I nearly fell for his act of being caring and sweet. He just pitied me, of course. That’s what they all do. They act like they really feel sorry for you, but they are actually disgusted with you. 

So, I read it over and over again, remembering it word for word. I felt the tears coming on, but I held them back, telling myself not to be so weak. 

I ran my hand over each word, brushing away any dirt that was on it. I missed my mother a lot, even though she hated me. She was one of the few people who had loved me for some amount of time, and even when that period of time ended, I still couldn’t help but love her and miss her with all my heart.

I folded the letter back to the formation it had been for years, pushing back into the page I had memorized. I slipped the book back in its hiding place, covering it with various parcels of paper and other objects until it was barely noticeable. 

I walked back over to the bed and slid underneath the covers, cuddling up against a sleeping Charlie. His hand finds its way around my waist and pulls me closer subconsciously, transferring his warmth to me. I lay my head back on his chest and move around a bit until I get comfortable. 

Slowly, my exhaustion washes over all the thoughts in my mind. It erases all of the things that were keeping me awake before. As much as I try to fight it and stay awake, my mind started to convince me that it wouldn’t be so bad as long as I got some sleep. Imagine how much better you’ll feel and how much longer you’ll be able to stay awake, it says. And, for once, I listen to it. It makes so much sense. 

So I gave in to it.

The nightmare came back as usual. And I survived through it. Each time it happened, I got more and more used to it. It wasn’t so bad. 

When I finally awoke, I felt more refreshed than ever.

And then I couldn’t breathe anymore.


	10. Chapter Ten

When I tried to take a breath, my lungs were filled with what felt like acid. I tried coughing, attempting to get it out, but that only made it worse. I opened my eyes and they quickly started burning and watering. The tears that filled my eyes to try to clear and cleanse them made it harder to see and I tried to wipe my eyes, but there was something on them that made it worse. When I looked through squinted and watering eyes, I see something black on them. The heat that I just now noticed started to close around me and I could barely breathe. I was finally able to open my eyes and what I saw made me get up to dart to the door.

The house was on fire. 

Smoke was filling it and flames crawled everywhere, covering everything in sight. I quickly rolled off my bed, landing on my feet. I immediately felt them beginning to burn from the heat of the floor. I gritted my teeth and made for the door, trying to avoid any of the burning wood.

I wasn’t thinking about anything but saving myself. 

The ground was covered in burning wood and ash. It made it hurt to even walk, let alone hop around to stay away from any fire. The impact of my feet against it hurt every time.

‘Just let the flames eat you. Everyone will be happier. Especially me.’ 

“Not now!” I screamed, wanting desperately for the voice to just go away. I didn’t need it antagonizing me while I was fighting to get out of the burning building with my life. 

The smoke was filling my senses and I try to bend over while I ran, making it harder for the smoke to reach my nostrils. But, it was everywhere, deeming that nearly impossible. 

 

The flames were literally everywhere and if the rest of the house was as bad as this room, I don’t know if I would be able to get out. When I finally reached the door, fire was quickly coming for it. In seconds I could be barricaded in here. One wrong move and I would be dead.

‘Let’s hope you make that move.’ But I ignored it, about to dive for the door handle. I knew it would most likely be burning hot, but it was my only way out.

The second my hand hit the metal that was usually cool, I screamed out, quickly pulling my hand back. I started coughing again from the sharp intake of breath. I was getting lightheaded. I needed clear air more than anything. 

When I peeked down at my hands, they were already blistering. 

I reached out for the door handle again, set on pushing through the pain and turning it to save my life. Then I heard it. It immediately made me want to slap myself for forgetting something so important to me. I felt extreme guilt writhe in my stomach. 

A groan. 

One that belonged to a boy that meant so much.

Charlie.

I can see him blurrily sit up and take a look at his surroundings, coughing. He looks over at me.

‘I cannot believe you forgot him, you selfish bitch.’ And I did indeed agree. 

“Charlie!” I called out. I had another round of hacking coughs. I start to go towards him. I had to help him out. 

“No! Save yourself!” He coughs, motioning to the door. 

“I can’t leave you!” I cry running back to the bed.

“Go.” And he looks me dead in his eyes and I see the desperate look in his face. 

“Please.” He says, a tear streaking down his soot covered face, making a line. I’m having an internal battle, wanting to save him, wanting to stay with him, but also having the animal instinct to flee.

He doesn’t even make a move to get off the bed, because he knows it’s not use. Fire is steadily making a barrier between the bed and the door. Even if he tried running, he wouldn’t make it. Neither would I if I went back for him.  
There was hardly a foot between two branches of fire spreading inwardly, about to meet at the middle. Everything with Charlie and I flashes through my mind. 

First meeting at Niall’s flat and feeling safer with him in two seconds than I had with Niall.

Him coming and shooting a man to save my life.

Charlie carrying me from the car into the house because I couldn’t walk.

Taking a tour of the house together, picking out our rooms.

He telling me how amazing my artwork was and bringing me clothes.

Having dinner together the first night.

Cleaning the dishes together and ending up having a water fight.

Him watching me taking my first strong steps in days.

Him trying to teach me how to play video games.

Me beating him at those video games.

Me trying to teach him how to simply paint. 

We ending up getting into a paint fight that left the walls and floor splattered with it.

Going on the walk where we found the woman.

Staying together in my room the entire night.

Telling each other our stories.

Everything passes through my head in less than a second.

Before the flames close off any source of survival, I don’t even think, calling out a final thing.

“I love you.” Is the last think I scream before the fires touch and I can’t see him anymore. I feel numb as I open the door, burning my hand profusely.

I run through the house, seeing everything I had slowly become accustom to burning into ashes. My hair was getting singed and my face was burning from the heat. It felt like one of those times when you were a kid and you got your face too close to the fireplace for too long. But his was no childhood. 

And as I ran, the voice was attacking me, making me feel worse about Charlie.

‘He opened up to you.’

‘He carried you and put up with you.’

‘He was there for you.’

‘You let him die.’

‘You disgusting piece of unlovable shit.’ 

I put up with it because I knew every word was true. I was horrible. I left the only person who had actually cared about me for years in a burning room.

I run down the hall, trying to ignore the last door on the left. I was in there a lot, almost as much as my own. I look in for a split second and see the bed on fire and all the consoles melting.

It was Charlie’s room.

I ran down the stairs, falling midway and tumbling down, smacking my head on the ground. It made me dizzier than I already was. I couldn’t take deep breaths to steady myself because if I did, I would just breathe in smoke. 

I stood up, ducking my head to keep away part of the smoke. I pull up the bottom of my shirt to cover my mouth to make it easier to breath. I run straight for the front door, seeing everything around me burn to the floor. 

Even though I’m running, I know I’m going slowly from the weakness. My entire body burned at the heat, making me sweat. I could hardly breathe anymore. My lungs were filled with black smoke and it hurt each time I tried to take in a breath. If I didn’t get out soon, I would pass out. 

I finally made it to the front door. The brass handle was practically melting, but I swung it open anyway. 

I pushed my heavy feeling body out of it, stumbling out into the clear air. I go as far away from it as I can, about twenty meters. When I get there, I collapse to my knees. 

Because we lived so far away from a city, it would probably take a long time for the fire department to come. 

Was I the only one left? What would I do? I had nowhere to go. Those two boys were the only ones who actually gave me a home and I left them both to die. I disgusted myself so much.

I sit there in the grass, blankly staring at the burning building. Nothing had quite set in yet and I just felt completely numb. No thoughts were running through my head. I was slowly becoming steadier as cool, clear air started to fill my lungs in place of the black smoke.

After what felt like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, a black figure comes running out of the house. My heart leaps in my chest, subconsciously getting to my feet. 

I knew there was nearly no chance it was Charlie, but I was praying it was. I didn’t care how he got out; only that he was possibly safe. 

The person comes trotting over to me, covered from head to toe is soot. When he reaches me, I look at him hopefully.

Blue eyes meet mine. 

But they weren’t Charlie’s pale sky blue ones. 

They were Niall’s icy blue colored. 

“You okay?” His Irish accent rings. All hope of it being him instantly disintegrates. 

I fall back to my knees. I was crushed. There was no way he could have gotten out. 

Niall sits besides me, closer than I would have expected from him. But I don’t move away, wanting any comfort I could get.

‘You don’t deserve it. You deserved to die.’

And I just nodded, agreeing with it. Niall must of thought I meant his question, because he didn’t asked again. 

In a split second, everything sank in. I start sobbing, tears streaking down my face. My eyes no longer burned with smoke; they burned with hot tears. I had lost my best friend. I could have saved him, but instead he burned just like the rest of the house. Charlie was gone. He was dead. And I could’ve done something about it, but instead I just stood there like an idiot, letting him die. I was so selfish and disgusting. What was wrong with me? Charlie was there for me when no one else was and now he was dead. 

His blue eyes that I stared into as I told him my story would never meet mine again. He would never hug me with his muscular arms. Charlie would never make us dinner or breakfast. He would never fill the house with the sounds of video games that he played constantly. He would never compliment me on my writing or art. He would no longer be there to let me borrow his clothes. He would never whisper encouraging words or yell playfully at me because he could no longer speak. Or breathe. Because of me. Everything was because of me and I knew it. 

Niall pulled me closer to him. I cried into his dirty shirt, letting all my feelings out. He probably thought I was crying because I was hurt. I was. But not in the way he thought; physically. I was hurt emotionally. 

We sat there for a long time, until sirens could be heard in the distance. In moments, we would be surrounded by people trying to put out our burning house, even though it was useless. There was nothing left to save. 

Niall finally spoke up, his voice crackling because of the smoke that had filled it.

 

“Where’s Charlie?” And that set off more tears because Charlie was in that building. His body was. But he wasn’t. He was dead. He wasn’t alive, trying to fight his way out of the house. He wasn’t in a different part of this area. He wasn’t huddling in the backyard as we were in the front yard, waiting for help to come. 

He was gone. 

‘Because of you.’


	11. Chapter Eleven

The fire truck finally reached us, after at least half an hour of me awaking. 

‘And forgetting about Charlie.’ How could I forget? 

Immediately the men start questioning us. Some of them started working on taming the fire while a few dug deep into our minds, trying to figure out the source of the fire. I stayed silent most of the time, a blank look covering my face. I was still numb. The scene kept replaying in my mind. Charlie made me leave him and I regret it every second. If I had ignored him and still went to help, he could have possibly lived. I should have been the one to die. Or he could have at least not died alone.

Then came the question I was dreading.

“Are you the only two that live here?” That’s what put emotion on my face. I bite my lip, trying to stop the flow of tears that had just finished from continuing. But it was no use. A tear spills down my cheek, the rest following. I try to hold back my sobs and I did that fairly well, until Niall answered.

“No. There was someone else. But he’s dead.” His voice was emotionless. I wanted to slap, punch, kick him for not caring that his best friend’s body was burning in his house. 

It was, after all, practically his fault. If he had never gotten Charlie into drugs and gangs, he would have never been kicked out of his home. He wouldn’t have been living with Niall. He would have been happy with a job and a girlfriend and a family. But, instead, he was dead. 

I wanted to bury my head in his shirt, but he disgusted me so much right now. It should have been Charlie here, crying that his best friend was dead because he actually cared. But, no, it was careless Niall. 

I bury my face in my hands, trying to hold back everything I wanted to scream. The fireman didn’t even flinch when he said that. I felt like I was the only one who actually cared. 

He just continued with the questions.

“Do you have any idea where the fire could have started?” 

“I don’t know if this means anything but it was the largest in the living room, right next to the door to the backyard.” The fireman nods, while writing it down in his little notepad.

I wanted to rip it to shreds.

“How do you think the fire began?” 

“It could have been anything. A fuse, an electrical cord, anything.” It doesn’t matter how it started, someone died I wanted to shout. But, I stayed silent, not being able to form any words. I must have been in shock. 

More sirens were heard. It must have been the ambulance. I didn’t even feel the burns, even though they were prominent all over my arms and anything that you could see. I could see the same on Niall and, as bad as it was, I secretly hoped he felt them more than anything. 

“Okay, we’re about done here. The paramedics should be here to take care of you at any moment.” I wanted to slap him or anything to make him shut up. He probably went through this type of thing all the time, but would it kill him to have a little bit of sympathy? When he left, the ambulance sirens were close and I could faintly see the flashing lights. I just sunk to the ground once again, trying to calm my tears. I quickly looked back at the house. It was black and charred, barely any fire remained. All I could think about was that the wood wasn’t the only thing burnt and dead.

Niall sat down next to me. He tried to get closer to me, trying to go back into the position we were in before the firemen arrived. But, I moved away, disgusted. I couldn’t stand to be near him. I stopped blaming myself and started to blame him. I couldn’t handle the fact that he didn’t even care. 

When the paramedics finally arrived, I was led to the back of an ambulance where they started to clean the ash off of me. Even though I was breathing fine, they said I had to be hooked up to an oxygen mask so that it could get all of the smoke and ash out of my lungs. They were doing the same thing to Niall. 

When they had cleaned all of the black off of my skin, one of them gasped. I looked down and what I saw shocked me. 

Burnt, horribly burnt flesh. It was astonishing that I didn’t feel much pain. One of them took my hands and her eyes widened. They were almost burnt black, blisters covering every inch. I knew it was because of my escape from my room.

‘Where you left Charlie.’ Yes, where I left Charlie. 

My skin was a deep red, some strangely a brownish color, and some yellowish. I looked like I had some sort of skin disease. The numbness was finally starting to wear off and the pain made me nearly gasp. It was stinging and the warm breathing of everyone around me made it worse. Each time they touched me, I had to hold back a groan of pain. They did all sorts of things to it. They wanted to do what they had to quickly for me to survive before they left because it was at least a forty-five minute drive to the nearest hospital, even with their ability to break the speed limit and go through lights. 

They first put it in cold water that nearly made me moan in appreciation of the sudden coolness. When they took them out, some of the irritated skin was less red. It burned when the warm air hit it once again. They rubbed a cream on it, which hurt horribly at first, before it soothed. They told me it was to fight infection. 

They put a needle in my arm connected to a bag of water that would give me fluids. The amount of sweating and heat I had endured during the fire made me dehydrated. It felt strange as the water was pumped into my system.

This was all done in the back of an ambulance.

The burns hurt horribly. You know how it hurts when you get a tiny one from a cookie sheet or a hot pan? Well multiply that pain by a million and put it all over your body.

“You may need a skin graph in a few areas.” One of them told me, looking at me with sympathy. I nearly scoffed right in her face.

 

If she thinks a little skin graph is so horrible try losing the only real friend you’ve had in twelve years because you were a selfish bitch who left him. That’s what’s really horrible. 

When I looked over, Niall, who no longer had soot all over him, appeared a lot less burnt than me. He only had a few red markings and singed hair. He lived on the top floor where the largest bedroom was. The fire probably wasn’t as bad up there and he got through easily. 

‘If Charlie had been up there instead of where you were, he would have survived.’ I had given up on arguing with it, because so far everything it had said was true. 

When I got a look back at the house, all I saw was no walls still standing and the staircase, all the floors and hardly anything else was still there. There was no longer a fire. Some of the men were carefully climbing up the stairs to check for anything that could have started the fire. 

‘They’ll probably find Charlie’s body. And you’ll have to explain to them it was your fault.’ 

A few of the firemen were just standing around, talking. I wanted to scream in their faces to do something. But, I couldn’t really talk with the oxygen mask on my face.

I just let the paramedics do whatever they had to do. They injected some pain killers into my system, slowly making the burning sensation ebb away. All of my emotions were suddenly heightened. They told me that it would happen because it sort of made me loopy.

I started thinking about Charlie’s death again and tears silently streamed down my face. Then I realized something.

My mother’s suicide note was in there. And now it was gone. My eyes widen as the tears quickly started falling at a faster pace. I couldn’t breathe well with the mask on and I started to choke. I took it and ripped it off, throwing onto the ground next to me. I pull out the needle in my arm that gave me the fluids and stumble out of the ambulance. A paramedic quickly goes to help me but I shake him off, not wanting anything but Charlie and my mother’s note back.

I fall to my knees for the billionth time today, my bare knees digging into the gravel road. Rocks dug deep into the skin but it didn’t compare with the emotional pain I felt.

I sob uncontrollably, not caring that everyone was staring. I ran my hands from my eyes to my hair, pushing it back over my face. I could feel everyone’s eyes on me, looking at me with sympathy that I didn’t want. 

“I… lost… everything…” I scream, my sobs cutting in between each word. 

“Everything… that… mattered… to… me…” I cry, talking to no one. I just let everything that had sunk in, out. 

“Charlie… is… dead…he… was… the… only… one… who… cared… about… me…” That sends more tears than I ever could imagine spilling down my face.

“The… last… thing… I… had… of… my… mother… is… gone…” I still couldn’t get more than one word in without a sob cutting it off.

“My… paintings… my… writing… EVERYTHING...” And, then I came to a shocking realization. I was more hurt about Charlie dying than anything. It’s crazy how a boy I only knew for a week or so could mean so much to me. 

“Charlie. I lost him. He was the first person I had ever loved since my grandmother and parents died. He meant so fucking much to me even if I had only known him for less than two weeks. Less than two god damn fucking weeks and he was already taken away from me!” I managed to get all that out without anything stopping me. There was a feeling in my heart that I couldn’t understand. It was what I felt when the last of my family passed.

Heartbreak. It hurt so much that I had lost him. I didn’t care that it was my fault right now. Only that he was gone. I’d never ever see him again and that hurt more than anything. 

I wanted to scream and kick and throw a tantrum, but that wouldn’t bring him back, would it? All the years of being alone were thrown at me all at once and I had never felt more abandoned.

Every single day of wondering if I should just stop myself from living came crashing down on me and I did the only thing I could think of right now.

“Please… God just kill me!! I beg of you!! Take me!! I don’t deserve this world!! I’m too weak.” I begged, just wanting to go into blackness forever. After so many years of being alone and then finally feeling being wanted again, then having it taken away… destroyed me. 

I knew just by asking God to kill me wouldn’t work so I did the first thing that came to mind. I held my breath. I don’t think anyone noticed. At first it just looked like I had stopped and stood still. For each second that passed I thought of everything I had done and that kept me from giving in.

My face was red by now and I think someone saw. I was getting lightheaded and I was hoping that at any second I would pass out.

“SHE’S STOPPING HERSELF FROM BREATHING!!!” Someone screamed. Quickly, everyone started scrambling towards me. 

Someone started to force open my mouth. I tried to keep it closed, but they were too strong and soon air began to fill my lungs. I sunk down from the kneeling position I was in until I was sitting flat on the ground. I cover my face and sob again, before lifting my face to the sky with my eyes closed. My face was scrunched up from crying. 

“Please kill me! Please! I want to die.” I whimper the last part. The loss of Charlie was too horrifying. The loss of everything was unbearable. Every single thing I had cared about was ripped away from me so suddenly. All my life, I relied on the note and my art and my writing to get me through everything. But now that it was gone, so was my source of living. There was no point. 

Everyone just backed away from me for awhile, letting me calm down. I just kept shouting for someone to kill me. Death seemed like the only option. Someone sat next to me and I was about to push them away when I caught their gaze. Those shining blue eyes belonged to one person and it was Niall.

But, they were a different shine this time. For a second, I could see the tears gathering in his eyes before he blinked and they were gone. It could have been my imagination, but right then I felt closer to him. 

He did care.

So we huddled together, my head leaning on his shoulder and I kept calling out to the unknown god to take me, until it was finally down to a few tears and murmurs of death wishes. 

The way I felt with Niall right now reminded me of the previous night with Charlie and it just made me cry a bit more. It should have been him sitting here comforting me, instead of Niall, even as horrible as that wish sounds. I just wanted him here with me right now, but the presence of Niall was a lot more comforting than nothing. He didn’t at all seem like the sickening person that I had known for the past week. He seemed human.

Suddenly there was a yell from one of the firemen. They were carrying something in their arms. I couldn’t tell if it was a person or an animal or what, but they just kept shouting, 

“I found something!! I think it’s a person.” They rushed it to the ambulance and everyone hurried to clean it off. I didn’t care what it was at the moment. I just stayed in my place until the rushing behind us stopped and everyone gasped. I turn my head slightly and am met with a miracle. 

I hand goes up to my mouth as more tears fall down my face. I was shocked, but the happiest I had ever felt. Though the thing wasn’t moving, I could see a very gentle rise and fall of a chest. I almost fainted. Niall turned his head as well, and you could see his body tense. I slowly stood up and took a step closer to the vehicle. I rubbed my eyes to see if they were tricking me. It couldn’t be…

But it was.

 

”Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.” I hear Niall mutter. 

Through a sob, I make out one word.

“Charlie?”


	12. Chapter Twelve

There he was. Lying in the back of an ambulance. Burnt and bruised, but still there. 

And I don’t think I’ve ever been happier in my life.

I ran to him, wanting to be back in his arms and to apologize my heart out for leaving him. I pushed forward, using all the adrenaline I had to go as fast as I can. A few of the paramedics pulled me back, stopping me. I started to scream.

“No! Let me be with him!” I cry, trying to break out of their grasps.

“He’s my best friend!!” I yell, pulling one arm out of someone’s hand, but it was caught again. It clicked in my brain. I knew why they were stopping me. I couldn’t just run up to him and hug the life out of him.

I could literally kill him with a hug. 

The few patches of visible skin were deathly pale and he was hardly breathing. Even though he made it out of the fire, there was a chance he wouldn’t continue. I wasn’t stupid.

He was dying.

‘Oh, I wonder who did that to him.’ It whispers viciously. I sigh, some of the joy I was feeling washing away as I once again as I remember why he was like that.

“We have to go!” A paramedic shouted, hopping in the back of the ambulance. They led me and Niall there as well, laying us down in a few spare beds that were in the back. Charlie was the only one who had things hooked up to him. We quickly began speeding down the rocky road, going as fast as possible. It would still be another half an hour before we reached the nearest hospital. 

So we waited. There was a man with us in the back, calmly telling us it would be alright, we just had to sit tight until we got to the hospital. But, I knew he was lying. I could see his concern in his eyes. He knew just as well as I did that if we were a second too late, Charlie would be gone.

Niall and I were on either side of him. The middle was the safest place to be and that’s why he was there. His burnt arm was hanging off the side of the bed slightly. 

I turn my head to look over at Charlie. His usually bright, happy eyes were shut closed. If we were didn’t get there in time, they may not open. 

‘That should be you, not him.’

The pain killers they had injected into me were still going strong, though they had worn off in the slightest bit. The burns did what they did best and hurt me, but I couldn’t imagine what kind of pain Charlie had gone through before he went unconscious. His condition was far more severe than ours. We wouldn’t have to stay in the hospital for too long. He might not even make it to the hospital. And even though I was more than happy Charlie made it out, I was terrified. I just got him back and I wasn’t prepared to lose him again. It was bad enough the first time.

I slowly and carefully reached my hand out from my sides and let in dangle off the edge. I allowed it to move closer to Charlie’s until my fingertips were just barely brushing his hand. His usually soft, pale-ish hand was instead a bright red, almost brown color with blistered standing out on the entire surface. But I didn’t care. I let my fingers loosely intertwine with his. I turned my head back to its original position and stared at the ceiling of the ambulance, the sirens of it ringing in my ears. My hand never once moved from Charlie’s.

I felt like if I let go, I would lose him. So I kept it there, holding on for mine, and seemingly his, life. 

We drove for what felt like years. Each second I could feel him become colder and weaker, but he kept breathing. Even in his unconscious state he was in a lot of pain. You could practically feel his discomfort. 

No one said anything for a long time. 

“Just a few minutes.” The man commented. Just hold on for a few more minutes, I thought, trying to telepathically send it to Charlie.

When the ambulance finally came to an abrupt stop, I knew we were there. The back of the car was immediately swung open and our gurneys were quickly lifted into the air. As they started to lead us out, my fingers started to slip from Charlie’s.

“No!” I whispered urgently, not wanting to let go. No one heard me and if they did, they ignored it. My hand left his and we were wheeled into the hospital.

I felt like I had just lost him, even though I knew he was being wheeled right in front of me.

They rushed us down the halls, practically running. We were taken to the ER. Niall and I were pushed into the same room, but the nurses taking Charlie just kept on going.

“Where are you taking him?!?!” I call worriedly. They ignored me and just kept moving. The door of the room I was in started to swing shut and I lost view of them.

“No!” I cry out, not wanting to lose sight of him again. But I did. I started thrashing around, trying to sit up and run to wherever he was going. I didn’t care that I was injured and had to be worked on immediately. The amount of pain I was in meant nothing. I had to get back to him. 

“Let me go to him!!” I screamed.

Three pairs of hands pushed me back down. I kept wiggling to get free, but soon gave up. I was weak and there was no way I would be able to break free.

I finally lay still, my eyes glazed over and my face blank. My screams were reduced to quite murmurs and the nurses started to work on me. They inserted an IV into my arm, it connecting to fluids. Another was inserted for pain reducers. They were kept in place by tape. I hardly felt the prick of the needles. Something was clipped to my pointer finger. I think it was to check my pulse. 

I didn’t even move when they started to take off my burnt clothes. I knew they would have to do this to put me in my gown. They peeled away the singed cloth until I was left in nothing. They nurses were all female, so I didn’t feel as awkward as I would have if they were male. They slipped on the thin dress and tied it in the back. 

More ointment was spread on my skin as one of them took a clipboard. They started asking questions to fill out. My name, age, weight, height, etc. was asked and I dully answered. When they were finished, they left the room, instructing me to press a buzzer on the side of my bed if they ever needed anything. I was left in silence; the only noises were my heart monitor and a few other machines I didn’t know the names of. 

Everything just ran through my mind.

Charlie was alive. Charlie could die at any second. Charlie wasn’t stable. Charlie was terribly burned. Charlie might not live. Charlie. Charlie. Charlie.

That’s all I could think about. 

After just blankly staring at the white ceiling for God knows how long, a doctor finally came in. She looked proper and sophisticated, like she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Hello, Charlotte. My name is Doctor Lauren. I’ll be the one taking care of you in the days to come. I understand you were in a fire?” She said, smiling and walking over to me. I nodded. 

“Okay, let me just check you out for a bit.” She told me, looking at all the machines. She took down a few notes before pulling down the sheets that covered me. She picked up my hands and arms, examining them before writing down a few more things. She lifted up my dress to the top of my ribcage, looking at my stomach. The paper-like underwear I was wearing felt strange against my skin. There was virtually nothing on my stomach besides a bit of redness from the heat. She looked at my legs, then my feet, then coming back up to my face. 

“Well, it seems that the only major burns were on your hands, feet, and a bit on your face. Your hands will need one or two skin graphs, though.” I nodded my head, not really caring.

“We’ll be by in an hour or so to put you under anesthesia and then we’ll perform the surgery. It’s a simple hour longer surgery where skin cells are placed on your damaged ones. You’ll most likely on be her for a week tops. You were very lucky.” She concluded, before walking out the door. 

About an hour later, just as she had said, I was wheeled into a surgery room. There I was met with an anesthesiologist, my doctor, and a few nurses, all in their scrubs.

“You will first be given a face mask in which what you may know as laughing gas will be distributed. It will make you sleepy as well as loopy. Then, you will be administered a sedative give through your IV. You will be put under. Your hands will be numbed and then we will begin surgery. You will awake extremely tired and lightheaded. Buzz for a nurse as soon as that happens.” A face mask was placed on me and I soon felt lightheaded. Everything around me felt like it wasn’t real and my mind imagined random things. It was kind of fun. Then, things took a turn for the worse. The voice in my head was heightened.

‘Charlie is dying out there because of you! You are the reason he is being put through this much pain! He was trapped in your room because you were too fucking stupid to go and help him! This is your entire god damn fault! He hates you now, more than anything! He never cared about you! He just pitied you! They both hate you! You almost killed Niall’s best friend because you were a selfish whore! You don’t deserve to only have a tiny surgery! You should be going through thousands of them! You need serious pain! No, you deserve to be dead! You should be down there in hell rotting while Charlie and Niall laugh! You are a foul, disgusting piece of shit that no one ever cared about! You were an accident, a mistake! Your parents didn’t want you. No one did and they never will! You are hated!” It screams. Suddenly, my eyes are closed and all I can see is black. I must be sedated now. I was still awake. I could think, but I couldn’t feel, hear, or move anything. The voice just kept attacking me nonstop. Every single word it said brought me lower and lower until I was ready to die. 

This went on for what felt forever. It didn’t seem to ever run out of insults to say. I tried to argue back, but it always cut me off before I could even say a single word. It made me feel like shit. That’s also exactly what it was hoping for, no doubt.

Finally, it went silent. My eyes heavily opened. The lights were blinding and I closed them again, savoring the darkness. I blinked a few times before I adjusted. I was back in the room I was first taken to, this time alone. The IVs were hooked up again and everything was back to the way it was. Besides the fact my hands were wrapped up. They didn’t hurt much, most likely from the pain reliever that was still slowly dripping into my system.

I felt dizzy and sleepy, just like the man had said. I felt slightly nauseous, too. They had told me to ring a nurse as soon as I woke up, but I wanted to lie in peace for a few minutes longer. I sleepily closed my eyes again, about to drift off into sleep. That’s when I realized it was a very pale light coming in from the window. 

I opened them again, turning slightly. It was morning, probably around seven. It had been almost a full day since the fire had started. I was shocked, but closed my eyes again. I started to think for awhile. I thought about Niall and where he was and what the doctors were doing to him. He was a lot less burned than I was because he got out a lot faster and had to go through fewer obstacles than I did. He probably didn’t have to go through any surgeries. 

Then I started to think about Charlie. I wondered if he was still alive. If he was, he was probably under surgery right now, getting five billion skin graphs. He was really bad and I knew that. 

I was about to sleep again, but the door opened. I peeked them open slightly to see who it was. A bit of blonde hair was the first thing I saw. 

Niall.

I didn’t really want to talk to him, so I pretended I was still sleeping. The chair next to me squeaked slightly as he sat down. He just sat there for awhile, not saying anything. I could tell he was looking at me.

I started to wonder why he was even there. He must be okay, if he was already out. I desperately wanted to ask him if he knew anything about Charlie and how he was, but that would mean starting a conversation and I was way too worn out and scared to do that. As close as we seemed when we were outside the house, I was still slightly afraid of him. 

I was about to open my eyes and fake waking up, but then he sighed deeply. I heard him run his hand through his hair. He lightly took my hand in his, even though it was wrapped in some sort of thin tape. I was about to jerk my hand away, but I left it where it was, eager to know what he would do next. I was shocked he had taken my hand, so this must be important.

Then he started to speak.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

“I don’t know why I’m in here right now. God, I don’t even know why I care so much about you. When I woke up to the fire, the first thing I thought of was you. I’m not supposed to worry about anyone else. You’re just some stupid girl I nearly caused to bleed to death. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself. I try to act like I hate you, in hopes that maybe that will make me stop caring, but it’s not working. And I feel like such an idiot just coming here and telling this all to you while you’re asleep, but I couldn’t stop myself. I cannot love you. I cannot care about you. The last time I loved someone…” He choked up slightly.

“The last time I loved someone went horribly wrong and I can’t let what happened to them happen to you. I can’t be the cause of another scene like that. I just, I don’t know what my feelings are and I’m so confused. I’m supposed to be the badass that doesn’t care about anyone or anything, but I can’t stop myself. Every time I see you and Charlie I can’t help but slightly wish that it was me instead. I don’t even know your name, for god’s sake, because you hate me too much to tell me. I-” He’s cut off when the door opens. I hear him stand up quickly, probably slightly embarrassed from being caught talking to a sleeping person. Well, a person that was faking sleep.

“We’re going to have to ask you to leave. We need to check our patient’s vitals. Besides, visiting hours haven’t started yet. It’s only seven and they don’t open up until nine. You can come back then.” The somewhat familiar voice of my doctor says. I hear the door close and I can feel the lack of Niall in the room. I silently thank the doctor for remembering not to say my name. I had asked her not to, ignoring any questions when she’d asked of why.

I thought of what Niall said. What really interested me is what happened the last time he loved. He had said something had gone horribly wrong because of him. That scared me. 

‘You don’t deserve to be loved. Do you see what you do to people?’

He said he was trying not to care about me, but to no avail. So, that means he cares about me. And he acted like he hated me so that our relationship wouldn’t go any farther. He worried about me even though he had hurt me multiple times.

My mind was racing with thoughts and questions. Everything that he had said was being repeated nonstop in my mind, like a tape recording on repeat. Nothing made sense. If anything, it made me more lightheaded from the over thinking.

I was shaken ‘awake’. I open my eyes slowly; to give off the impression I had just woken up. I fake yawn and stretch slightly, blinking my eyes a few times. I made my voice heavy when I spoke.

“How am I doing? When will I get out of here?” I asked, looking up into the brown eyes of Doctor Lauren. 

“You’re doing fine, really well actually. The skin graphs on your hands haven’t shown any sign of rejection, which is possible.” I cock my head in the way that showed her I needed an explanation. She obliged.  
“When new cells are placed in your body, there could be something wrong or different about them. Your cells will reject it, thereby causing a possible infection or serious problem. This is not common, nor rare.” She explained. It made sense, so I nodded. She continued.

“You will probably be released in three days to a week. It takes about two or three days to be sure your skin graphs have set in and are working. By the way, there was a boy in here with you earlier, while you were asleep. He was blonde with tattoos. Is he a friend?” She asks; interest in her eyes. I noticed how young she looked; probably only twenty-five or so, no older than thirty. 

I didn’t know how to answer to the friend question, not sure what Niall and I are. So I just nodded, not wanting to cause alarm. I then ask a question that was itching at me.

“Do you know what happened to the other boy that came in with me? His name is Charlie.” I ask, nervously shaking my foot from side to side. Her face turned slightly ashen. I knew it wasn’t good.

“Yes. He is in critical condition right now. Honestly, he isn’t expected to make it through tonight. His burns were severe and a lot of poisonous air made its way into his body. He can’t breath on his own currently. I’m sorry.” My face fell at her words.

It was awkward for a few moments before she left the room, saying something about returning in a few hours to check that I was alright and that in an hour a nurse would come bring me food. Apparently the IVs that were giving me nutrition were taken out. 

So, I lay there, suddenly extremely tired. That short conversation had worn me out. I suppose I was still pretty weak. I closed my eyes and I lay awake for a few minutes just thinking about the two boys in my life, one that didn’t want to be, the other that might be taken out of it at any moment. 

And then I fell asleep. 

 

I was woken up by an older nurse who had a tray of food with her. She set it in front of me; apple sauce, water, and some bread. I wasn’t hungry, though I chugged down the water. I forced myself to eat a little bit before asking the woman to take it. When she left, I laid back down, sighing deeply. There was a small TV that was in front of me. I had nothing else to do, so I reached for the remote. I pressed the ‘on’ button, switching through channels before settling on some dumb reality show about a celebrity I had never heard about. 

I wasn’t really paying attention, just blankly staring at the moving screen. I was zoned out, thinking about everything I had lost or was soon to lose. I wanted to cry, but no tears came out.

I looked at my hands. They were wrapped in a few layers of the thin gauze. It was put on in a way that I still had my fingers separated and I could move easily. I thought about everything in a deeper way, going into more detail. 

A few hours later, Dr. Lauren returned, like she had promised. I turned the TV off and patiently waited for her to speak. 

“We think it’s a good idea for you to take a trip around the hospital, maybe go into the garden in the back or roam the halls or even visit some of the younger patients and talk to them, keep them company. It’ll build your strength up.” Even though she said it was an idea, implying it was an option, I was forced to do it.

I weakly stood up after she had removed all the wires and needles I was connected to. Walking was surprisingly easy, though only a few steps made me tired. After walking out of the room and halfway down the hall, Dr. Lauren left, saying that there were so many nurses running around, if anything were to happen I would have someone by my side instantly. 

I knew exactly where I would go. 

I went down to the front desk as quickly as I could without passing out. 

“What room is Charlie in? I don’t know his last name, but he was in a fire. He’s severely burnt. I was in the same fire with him.” I explain quickly. Luckily, the woman was kind and understanding. She went through her files quickly, finally looking up at me with sympathy in her eyes.

“I’m sorry, darling. He’s in the Critical Condition Unit, or the ICU. You can’t visit him unless you are family.” She apologizes. I desperately wanted to lie and say I was family, but then I would have to get proof. So, I nodded, walking away. 

I walked through random halls, not knowing where to go. I didn’t care that I was in a hospital gown and that everyone was staring at me, I just kept going. I finally made it to a hallway that looked much more alive and happy.

The children’s area. 

I looked in the small window on the first door I saw. It was empty. All kinds of balloons and flowers were still in there. I didn’t want to think about what happened to the person who was in there.

I came to the next door. When I looked inside, there was a little girl sitting alone on the bed. She was hooked up to a thousand different machines. I wouldn’t have known what was wrong with her if I hadn’t looked closer. My heart fell into my stomach. 

She didn’t have any hair. 

I had a past with cancer. I didn’t have it, but my grandmother did. That’s why she passed, as I said before. Cancer had an effect in my life, so every time I saw it, my heart instantly broke for whoever was suffering with it. There is such a low chance for someone to survive healthily once they have been diagnosed. 

I remember that Dr. Lauren had said I could visit with the younger patients. So, I put my wrapped hand on the doorknob and turned it. The little girl’s head snapped over to where I was. 

“Hi. I’m a patient here and I noticed you looked a little lonely, so I decided to give you a bit of company.” I said softly, smiling. The girl just nodded with no emotion on her face. I took a seat next to her bed. It was silent for awhile until she broke it. 

“My name is Ella. I’m eleven. I’ve had cancer since I was eight. It’s lung cancer.” She said in a weak voice, her beautiful blue eyes looking over at me. They were dull and deathlike.

‘She doesn’t deserve this sort of pain. You do.’ 

“My name is Charlotte. I was in a fire. My best friend was in it too, and he might not make it through the night. Hospitals suck, don’t they?” I say, not knowing what else to tell her. She nods. 

“My grandmother had lung cancer, too. It was so hard. But, I remember, once she told me something. It was only a few days before she passed. She said, “Charlotte, things happen and people pass and it’s a horrible thing. But, we can either think about the death that’s in the future or live in the beauty that is still there in the present of being still alive.” What she meant was that we can dread and worry about the day when we leave this earth or we can enjoy every second we have left.” I blurt out. I don’t know why I told her this, but I felt the need to.

She smiled. 

“She’s right. Everyday, I think about how I might die tomorrow and it ruins my day. I just realized that if I keep doing that, I’m going to die unhappy with a thousand things I could have done while I was still alive not done because I was too busy worrying about death.” Ella says. I could tell that my words had inspired her. 

“People always tell me that I’m going to die. And that makes me sad because I realize I am not going to be able to do something that changed this world like I’ve always wanted to. I want to leave a mark in this world by doing something that makes it a better place, but I won’t be able to because of this stupid cancer. I won’t be able to do a single thing because I’m too damn weak to.” She continues, tears filling her eyes. 

“You’re so beautiful. You’re so strong and you are such a fighter. I am blessed that I got to meet you. Even when you will pass away, whether it is in a hundred years or a day, you will leave a mark on this Earth. You will be known in my mind as one of the strongest and most amazing people on this planet. You are not even in the slightest weak. If you were weak, you wouldn’t be fighting through this. Don’t ever think different. I know what it’s like to be so sure you are going to die and to not have any hope. I was on the streets for over three years. I have almost died a million times. And there is going to be a point when I do die. And it’s going to be the same with you. But, instead of the taking the fact you might die soon as a reason to give up on any hope, take it as a challenge to be the best person you can be and make the most of what you have left, ok?” I tell her, tears of my own making their way down my face. She’s crying to. She reaches down to hug me and I hug her back, whispering to her how strong she is. 

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” She murmurs. A doctor comes in and looks taken aback. There are big smiles on both of our faces, even though we are crying. 

“I guess it’s time for me to go. I’ll try to visit again soon.” I say, before leaving the room. Before I go, the doctor stops me long enough to whisper something in my ear.

“You must have done something incredible. I haven’t seen her smile in so long.” 

I do this for the rest of the day, visiting children with all kinds of diseases. 

When I finally make my way back to my room, I am elated and light on my feet. I pass the doors to the ICU and see a panic. 

“He’s dying!! Hurry! We need to get him to the proper room to save him!” A nurse shouts, urging on a group of other nurses.

They roll someone out of the room, rushing to a different one down the hall. They run through the glass doors that lead to the ICU and towards the operation wing. As they pass me I get a view of who is dying.

I collapse on the ground at what I see. The person is so disfigured and horrible looking, it was hard to tell it was a person. Their face is the only thing that managed to look somewhat like it had before. And all I could hear was two words.

‘Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fault. Your fucking fault.’ 

It was Charlie that was dying.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

I couldn’t stop myself from immediately coming up with a way to get to him. Tears didn’t fill my eyes and I didn’t feel like I did when I thought Charlie was dead because it hadn’t quite sunk in yet. All I cared about was getting to wherever he was.

I waited until there was no one left in the halls. I snuck a look from behind the wall, checking the wing of the procedure rooms. Empty. I tip toed as quietly as I could down the halls, listening for any source of sound that could potentially lead to me being taken away. 

When I was sure it was clear, I began checking inside the rooms. There was the one way glass about a foot wide and long on each door, allowing you to look inside. I checked those. 

The first one I looked into had many different cutting utensils. The second was the same. The third was a smaller amount of things. 

I checked what felt like hundreds as quickly as I could, all the while hoping no one would come out of the rooms. I finally looked into the ninth window, the second to last door in the hall. There, I saw a young boy and many doctors surrounding him, hastily pumping things into his body. They were working as quickly as physically possible, spending no time on perfection. They only needed to do what they had to to save him.

I was at the correct room. 

So, I stood there for a moment, watching everything I possibly could. I took in each and every detail physically possible, wanting to get as much as I could before I was caught. 

Many things were injected into his body. Every few seconds he would gasp for air and a spasm would run through his body. From what I could tell, he couldn’t breathe for some reason. Things were pressed into his nose and his head fell limp. I almost screamed right then, momentarily believing he was dead. Then I realized he had been put under anesthesia and that he wasn’t gone. 

He was hooked up to something I was familiar with; life support.

I took his actual appearance in, instead of what was going on around him.

He was deathly pale and looked extremely fragile. His bones looked brittle and his face seemed hollow and lifeless. His body was weak. So weak that he couldn’t breathe on his own. 

It was so hard to see him like then when only a few days ago he was the strong boy who complimented me on my drawings and played video games constantly. The boy that was my best friend.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I flipped around to see a nurse; an angry one at that. I immediately looked for a way to escape, my eyes flitting around. My mind worked quickly, attempting to come up with an excuse. All I could come up with was silence. 

“You’re going to have to come with me. Patients aren’t allowed to be in this area.” She grabbed my arm forcefully, trying to pull me away from the door. I snatched it back, pulling it out of her grip.

“No! I can’t leave!” I cry, the sobs finally starting to arise in my body. A stray tear falls down my face.

‘Weak. You can’t stop crying for more than two seconds.’ 

“You have to!” She demands louder, trying to grab my arm again. She latched onto it and starts to yank me away. I dig my feet into the ground, trying to make it harder for her to pull me. I can’t be separated from him again, especially when I’m so close and it’s not my life over his. If this god damn nurse just let go, then I could be there for him. I’m being taken away once again. One time was more than enough, let alone three.

“You don’t understand! My best friend is in there and he’s dying!” I scream. Lucky for them, the doctors inside Charlie’s room cannot hear me, as the walls are sound proof. 

Tears spill out of my eyes as the prospect of leaving Charlie again comes into mind and I vow right then that I wouldn’t let it happen. So, I pulled back with all my force.

“Patients are not allowed in this area!! You must leave or I will be forced to call other nurses to help!” She says somewhat calmly, trying to keep her cool, though I could see her annoyance. She didn’t seem the least bit fazed that someone was dying only a few feet away from her.

“He’s my best friend! I’ve already been separated from him more than once! Don’t you have a fucking heart?!” I yell, still trying to get my arm away from her hand. Her meaty fingers tightened around my forearm, not seeming to care that her nails were digging into my skin. 

She ignored me, dragging me slowly across the floor, farther away from a dying Charlie. I whip my head back around to look inside the room. They were operating now, his chest cut wide open as doctors feverishly worked on him. 

“Let me go! Don’t you realize that someone I love is dying and you are trying to take me away from them?!” The nurse threw her head back and groaned, as if I was a pesky little kid crying because I didn’t get a toy I wanted. If only it was that simple.

“I do not care. You are not allowed here!” She repeats in a bored and slightly annoyed tone, digging her fake nails farther into my skin, making small half moon indents on my skin. She pulled me farther, my bare feet squeaking against the floor. I again dug my heels into it, turning my body so that it was more difficult for me to be moved. 

“If you do not allow me to move you in the next ten seconds, I will call for more nurses to force you out.” She announces again, pulling harder. 

“Get the fuck off me!” I screech. A few nurses passing the hall entrance must have heard me and quickly jogged over. 

What a scene we must be. A crying teenage girl in a hospital gown screaming at a full grown nurse that was holding her and dragging her across the floor. 

“What’s going on Ms. Barcenia?” A young, kind looking nurse asked, looking at me in a concerned way.

“This girl was standing outside of the operation room. Patients are not allowed here and I told her that. I tried to remove her, but she struggled and fought.” The other nurse, Ms. Barcenia I guess, explained as though it was just a minor thing that they went through every day.

“But you don’t fucking get it! My best friend is in there dying!” I sobbed, desperately trying to twist out of her grip. The other three nurses that had arrived looked at me in sympathy. For a split second I expected them to tell me it was okay for me to watch and be by my best friend, but I was sadly wrong. 

One grabbed my other arm and the other two each grabbed a leg. I flailed my body, turning in any possible way to get out. They wouldn’t allow it and kept walking, holding me between them as if I was a doll. 

I screamed and cried, not giving a damn if I seemed like a child. People looked at me strangely as they passed, but I didn’t care at all. I was too focused on trying to get out. 

“Please! Let me go! I need to make sure he’s okay!” I cried, shaking my head back and forth along with my body like a wild animal. They all had a strong grip on me and it seemed hopeless, but nevertheless, I kept trying. Every second that passed was one less moment that I was with Charlie and that’s what kept me going.

‘You should be with him, but you left him again. Selfish bitch.’ And it was right. I was a selfish bitch and so were these nurses. So, I just kept trying and trying to get out of their grips but they kept getting stronger and I kept getting weaker. The tears were blinding me and were getting into my mouth, making me cough. The entire time I was just screaming about how horrible they were and how I had to be with Charlie because he was dying, but they ignored every word and just kept walking through the hospital, slowly getting closer and closer to my room. Once I’m in there, they can lock me inside or sedate me and it’ll be all over. I have to get out before then.

I keep shouting, my voice becoming hoarse. They don’t even flinch, simply looking ahead. I continue to get weird glances and I continue to not care. And so the more seconds that pass, the louder my screams get and the more powerful I force myself to move. 

I crane my head around to peak through the gaps in between the nurses bodies. I could see my bright room number only a few steps away.

That pushed a newfound energy through my body and I completely flip over. The nurse holding my left arm drops me. I hold myself up and twist my arm around to bite one of my nurses. As soon as my teeth get near her, she lets go. I’m left in a push up position before I push forward with my feet, kicking anyone who happened to be holding my legs. They let go. I immediately took off running, pushing myself harder than I ever though possible.

Faint calls of people telling me not to run in the halls were heard, but I ignored them. All I thought about was getting to Charlie in time.

‘He’s probably already dead. You are too late. Again.’ That only pushed me faster. I didn’t care that I could hardly breathe. I didn’t care how weak I felt; the adrenaline keeps me going. I ignore everything around me, only focusing on getting to the wing I needed to be in. That’s all that matters. 

As I’m running, I pass Niall walking down the hall towards the cafeteria. He was in normal clothes, his tattoos showing brightly. He gave me a look as if to ask what I was doing. I slowed for a second, taking notice of the small mob of nurses running after me. 

“Charlie.” I said to him, before taking off again. His eyes widened and I knew he understood what I meant. I felt a presence beside me running as well and I nearly had a heart attack before realizing it was Niall. He kept pace with me, following my quick steps towards the hallway I needed to be in. 

“He’s dying.” I mumble to Niall, not slowing at all. He nodded, signaling that he heard me. We picked up the pace simultaneously, the entrance to the hallway in sight. I sprint at it, almost tripping and falling at a sharp turn. 

An older nurse was nearly hit by us, the clipboard in her hands flying to the floor as we rushed past her. The only thing I saw was her shocked face before we moved on. Tears were still streaming down my face and I forced myself to only focus on running and not what would happen if I didn’t run fast enough.

When we finally got to the long hall, I saw nurses starting to come out of the room that belonged to Charlie. That could only mean two things; one bad and one good. That added another burst of speed I didn’t know was possible. 

 

The nurses heard us and turned, their eyes widening at the two teens sprinting towards them. They quickly moved to the sides, trying to get out of our way, hoping not to get hit.

They long corridor seemed to take forever to reach, even though it literally took us five seconds at the speed we were going. We finally got to the door. 

I looked inside, blinking through my blurring eyes. All I could see was a single doctor and two nurses, writing a few things down. I could not hear what they were saying, as the walls were soundproof. All I could do was hope for the best.

The group of nurses that had been following us reached the beginning of the hall and ran towards us at a mad speed. I look around desperately at the other nurses faces, trying to get a sense of what happened from their expressions.

All I got were blank faces that helped me in no way, shape, or form.

The mob was getting closer and I was silently begging someone to say something before they arrived. By now there was only a few more seconds we had until they reached us.

Then, everything felt like it went in slow motion.

The group of nurses grabbed me and Niall’s arms, starting to grab us. I shake them off best as I could, but there were too many arms grabbing at once. Niall’s arm snaked around my waist, trying to pull me closer so that we wouldn’t be separated. The shouts of people filled the still air, but they weren’t loud enough to miss what I heard.

One of the two nurses walked out of the room, the door swinging open just enough so that I could hear the doctor’s words for a second.

The only thing I could make out immediately made me go limp and weak. I could feel Niall tense beside me. We were easily dragged away now. Neither of us fought it. We were both too shocked.

‘Your fault. It’s all your fault. You should have stayed. Your fault. You selfish bitch.”

Again, as before, the voice kept yelling at me, blaming me for everything. 

The doctor’s words kept ringing in my mind. 

“Time of death: October 19th, 2012 at 5:38 p.m.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

It was real. There was no chance of him waking up or living. The doctor had confirmed his death, deeming the possibility of his life gone.

Niall still had his arm around my waist as we were led away. I curled against him, tears leaking out of my eyes. I wasn’t full on sobbing. I was in shock. The nurses pulled us down halls and around corners, no sympathy or remorse in them. They didn’t care someone had died; all they cared about was that we had caused a disturbance in their precious hospital. 

We reached my room. They opened the door, pushing us both in. They started to grab Niall, but I violently shook my head. They couldn’t take away the only thing I had. I started to freak out slightly, holding on desperately to Niall.

“Visiting hours is going on right now. He can stay.” I croaked, hoping they would just let him go.

“Your episode back there clearly showed you do not deserve to ha-” One of the nurses, the one who had originally grabbed me, started, but she was quickly cut off by my doctor entering.

“For fuck’s sake Denise, the poor kids just lost their best friend. Let them be.” Dr. Lauren spits at the nurse, making her gape in disbelief. I wanted to just run up and hug my doctor. The nurses left, sending a few glares back at us, but leaving nevertheless. Niall sat in the chair next to the bed as I lay down on the cool sheets. Dr. Lauren quietly began connecting me back to the IVs and heart monitor. The prick of the needle was hardly there as I thought of what just happened. As before, I felt numb. There weren’t any tears. I was too horrified to speak. I was just deadly silent, not moving, staring up at the ceiling I had spent hours doing the same thing. Niall was silent too. I didn’t hear any crying or anything like that. He just calmly sat there, like a statue. I quickly looked at him out of the corner of my eye and saw his face blank and emotionless. Mine must have looked the same.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I lost my best friend around your age, too. It’s hard, but you’ll get through it, as long as you have someone to lean on.” She looked between me and him, raising her eyebrows slightly. I did a tiny shake of my head, signaling to her that Niall and I were not dating. She sighed before leaving. Right before she walked out of the door, she told me one last thing.

“I’ll be back in a few hours.” I nodded my head and she closed the door behind her. I laid my head back down and just stared up at the ceiling again. There were moments of complete quiet, nearly of us hardly daring to breathe. 

“He’s really gone, isn’t he?” I choke up on the question, whispering it quietly, almost like I was hoping he wouldn’t hear. But he did.

“Yes.” Is all he says, his voice deep and emotionless. That’s when everything finally sets in and I realize there is no chance I’ll get him back. Tears slowly start to build up until I blink, letting a few fall. I bite my lip in an attempt to hold back the lump forming in my throat. Again we are plunged into silence; the only sound my heavy breathing. My hand is hanging off the bed by my wrist, limply floating in the air. I notice his eyes keep flickering back to it, as if he was trying to decide something. I ignored it, sheltering myself into my own little world of thoughts. Every feeling and memory of heartbreak and love, as well as happiness, rams into me all at once, my mind flooding with everything I could possibly remember. 

This sends me into another fit of sobs. I tried to make them as silent as possible, but it was extremely difficult. My right hand, the one that wasn’t hanging off the side of the bed, goes up to my mouth to cover the sobs that were spreading throughout me and racking my entire body. I felt something warm and rough clasp my hand. I knew it was Niall’s hand. He didn’t intertwine out fingers. Instead, he pulled his and my hand up to his forehead. He brought his left hand over and held the other side of my hand, so now his large hands were completely enclosing mine. Something warm and wet touched the palm of my hand trapped in his. I couldn’t see his face, as it was hidden by him facing the floor. I knew he was crying and trying to hide it, but I knew. I had never seen this side of Niall before; the one that cried and actually acted like he had other emotions besides anger. I didn’t mind. So, we sat there, crying together, only thinking about the best friend we lost. 

We did nothing else for an hour. My eyes felt red and irritated, the dry tears on my cheeks consistently being covered by new ones. Finally, Niall let go of my hand. Both our tears had slowed enough so that we could speak, but we didn’t. Niall picked up my hand again, playing with my fingers to distract himself from anything else. 

I felt stupid for crying so much. My entire life, I was always such a badass who never cried and never cared about anything. I was the classic tomboy, nothing ever making me sob or even let a single tear out. The only times I had cried were the deaths of my parents and grandmother. And even then, I hadn’t allowed anyone to see me crying. Now, I was sobbing in front of an entire hospital. 

But I guess this was the first time in awhile I had ever cared about someone. 

“What will we do? When we get out of here? I’m well enough to be let off on my own.” And I was. I’d had Dr. Lauren check out the gash on my back shoulder, inspecting it for any signs of infection. She had told me that it was absolutely perfectly stitched together and that I had nothing to worry about. 

I tried to make it seem like I wanted to be released, as it was obvious before that I wanted to be desperately, but after this entire escapade, I didn’t want to leave. I had someone I somewhat cared about and that I didn’t want to leave; Niall. 

“You can go back to live with your parents or whoever took care of you, wherever you were before.” I flinched at the word my parent. I wanted to tell him how I didn’t have a home, how no one was taking care of me. But I didn’t. I hardly knew how old I was, as I never kept track of the months and days while on the streets. I had no way to. But I remembered the date the doctor had said when announcing Charlie’s death. According to that, I was about seventeen, maybe eighteen. If I was seventeen, it would technically be illegal for me to be out on the streets with no guardian; then again, I had been like that for years. 

It went back to silence again. 

“What’s your name?” He mumbled. My eyes widened. There was a short mental war in my mind whether I should tell him or not. I wasn’t sure if I could trust him, but at the same time I had grown closer to him lately. I came up with my answer.

“I’m sorry. But I can’t. I just can’t.” I whisper, not wanting to look him in the eye. I expected him to get angry at me, but he just stayed quiet. I saw him nod slightly. He continued to do random things with my fingers to keep him occupied, like he was a little child. The bandaging around them seemed to fascinate him. I didn’t care much; it was in a way soothing.

We didn’t say anything else until Dr. Lauren returned. She told us that visiting hours were over and that he had to leave. He let go of my hand before standing up and leaving the room. At the door, he turned back for a second to look at me, his slightly puffy, yet still striking blue eyes piercing mine. When he left, I practically deflated, sighing deeply. Dr. Lauren checked everything quickly. 

“You’ll be able to leave soon; maybe as day or so. Let me check the skin graphs.” She murmured, peeling away the wrapping. The skin of my hands was bright pink, much different from the rest of my body. It didn’t hurt at all. 

“Perfect. They are doing very well.” She said. We spoke for a few moments longer before she left. It was night now. I pressed a button on the side of the bed that turned the light off. I was emitted into darkness. 

‘Look what happened again. He’s dead. You left him. Déjà vu much?’ 

I was too busy thinking about Charlie and the voice, that I forgot what sleeping brought. So, I closed my eyes and fell into a tortured sleep. The reoccurring dream happened and I went through the pain once again. I woke up to daylight seeping through the windows. I was getting sick and tired of the dream happening over and over again .It was extremely strange the way it constantly kept happening. Not once since the first time I had it, did I not have the dream while sleeping, except for when I was medically put to sleep for the operation. 

I did not get out of the hospital that day. Or the next. Everyday Niall returned and stayed for about an hour before leaving. I got many dirty looks from the nurses I recognized from the chase and anyone else who was there to witness it. I regained my strength. I visited Ella again, telling her about what happened with Charlie. She laughed at the story of the nurses chasing me. 

It was now three days after Charlie’s death and I was more than ready to get out of here. Dr. Lauren came in. She detached me from everything and said I was ready to go. I smiled as I filled out some paperwork, glad to be leaving this place. Dr. Lauren was about to lead me to the entrance of the hospital, before I told her I wanted to do one more thing before I left. She looked confused and slightly weary, before she gave in. 

I walked quietly down the halls, stopping to look into each window. I wanted to see all of the patients one last time before I left. I had talked with a few of them and they were nice. The new clothes I was wearing, ones my doctor had provided, were comfortable and it was nice to be out of a hospital gown. 

I checked each window down the long halls, seeing every sort or disease and injury. There was a man in a body cast, another with only one leg. A woman with a hacking cough was one of the last I saw. I finally reached the last room, only glancing at it slightly before walking to move on.

I stopped short, backtracking over to the window. I peeked in again, looking at the patient inside. It was a boy, about my age, with dark hair and his eyes closed. I peered closer. The windows had smudges on them, so it was hard to see completely clearly. 

The boy was pale, and a line of stitches ran from the top of his chest down into where the sheets covered him. He looked to be sleeping soundly. I wiped the finger prints off the window, allowing me to see a bit clearer. 

My breathing stopped along with my heart.

I flung the door open, waking the boy. His blue eyes looked up at me, blinking sleep away. We stood there, staring at each other for awhile. I was in shock and he seemed slightly confused. 

Something crossed his features; realization. 

His mouth opened slightly in disbelief as he took in my presence. A pale and very weak looking hand reached up and sort of leaned toward me, as if he was beckoning me. I walked forward. I grabbed the hand he held out, bringing it to my lips. A small smile drew itself onto his face as he looked at me.

“Charlotte?” He says, just as I say his name in response.

“Charlie?”

He was alive. My Charlie was here, alive. He wasn’t covered by a sheet and he was breathing. His heart monitor wasn’t flat lining, it was going steady. 

Charlie was alive. I didn’t care how at the moment and I didn’t ask why, for the only thing that mattered was that he was there.

 

He was alive.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

“How… what… you’re okay?!?!” I start off low and finish with a screech. I want to rush over and attack him in a hug, but the weakness in his body obviously shows that I cannot.

“You died!” I yelled, making him cringe slightly. 

“I’m not exactly sure what you mean. All I remember is going unconscious while in my hospital room and then I woke up here.” He says.

“Do you know when your doctor or a nurse will be returning? I want to ask them… something.” I trail off, unsure whether I should tell him or not. If he had no idea that he died, then the doctors must have not told him. 

“They come in every hour to check on me. Apparently I’m ‘unstable’.” He put air quotes around the word unstable. I almost laughed, knowing that he had no notion that he truly was unstable. 

“When was the last time someone came in?” I ask, wishing he would just get to the point of when his doctor or a nurse would be returning.

“Probably ten or so minutes until the next one comes.” He concludes. I nod, before sitting down in the visitor chair and speaking with him, answering all his questions about the fire. 

“How did you, um, get out of the house and live after I,” I gulped. “Left you.” I finish, almost not wanting to say it. His face shows that he is thinking about it, so I wait.

“When you left-” He was cut off from his story when none other than Dr. Lauren walks in. 

“Charlotte? Fancy meeting you here.” She grins, though I could see the confusion etched on her face. 

“Charlie, how are you feeling?” She asks, turning her attention to the patient. He just shrugs. 

“How do you know Dr. Lauren?” Charlie asks me. 

“She was also my doctor. After the fire, she was the one who took care of me.” I vaguely say, ready to attack my previous doctor with questions. We sat silently as she took all the notes she needed down. She then told him to take off his shirt. I was confused, and almost embarrassed. But, he did as was told and brought the sheets down to his hips, far enough up that it covered anything unwanted up, but you could still see his chest and stomach. 

Wrapping covered his entire top half, starting at the top of his hips all the way to just below where his arms met his torso. I bit my lip to stop from gasping loudly, unsure of what to expect as she began to unwind the thick covering. When she finally finished and threw the soiled gauze away, I finally saw what it had been hiding.

What looked like hundreds of tiny stitches ran up from just above his belly button all the way to nearly the top of his torso. They went in nearly a straight line. I looked away for a second in disbelief. This was most likely from the surgery that I had witnessed right before he had supposedly died. I turned back and just stared at him, my eyes lifting up to meet his, weakly smiling at him. He smiled back and then I turned my gaze back to his stitches as Dr. Lauren poked and prodded him before putting some kind of ointment on it, then wrapping it up again.

“They are doing very well. A week or two, and you should be good to go.” She smiles before leaving. 

“Dr. Lauren, can I speak to you for a second.” I ask quietly. She nods, motioning to follow her right outside the door. I tell Charlie that I’d be right back before closing the door.

“What the hell?! How is he still alive?” I whisper-shout as soon as we’re out of Charlie’s earshot. 

“Ok. The reason why Charlie was practically suffocating in the first place was because liquid from one of his IVs somehow made it to his lungs. His lungs were already extremely damaged from the amount of smoke that had been taken in from the fire. He could barely breathe on his own. When the liquid had finally gotten so bad, even the help from the oxygen tank couldn’t make him breathe. He started suffocating and we quickly had to take him into surgery in an attempt to get the liquid out of his lungs.” She said quickly. I took everything in as best as I could, but I was still slightly in shock from the fact Charlie was alive.

“This is where it gets confusing. We had removed most of the liquid from his lungs, but it was already too late. Or so we thought. The doctor you heard, Dr. Rhode, and the rest of us were all convinced there was absolutely no way to save him. He had stopped breathing and we knew he’d be dead in a second. Suddenly, just as he had said the time of death, his body jerked up in the air, his back arching. He could breathe again. We started working feverishly to make sure he was completely okay. Somehow, the rest of the liquid had gotten out and oxygen was able to make its way into his system again.” I was absolutely stunned. I didn’t say anything for awhile before looking back at her with my mouth wide open. I finally gasped out a, “wow.”

“Amazing, isn’t it. I have never seen anything like it before.” We talked for awhile longer before she was called for something else. I returned to Charlie. 

“You’re absolutely, undeniably, utterly, completely, incredible.” I gasp, quickly walking forward and leaning forward to kiss his cheek. I was still in somewhat of shock, hardly believing that was possible.

“What did I do to deserve all those adjectives?” He grins, looking at me.

“What didn’t you do? You were my best friend when no one else was, you trusted me, you saved Niall and I’s life, you survived a deadly fire, you surpassed death. You’ve done so much. I can’t believe it.” I whisper, sitting down next to him again. I glanced at his hand before carefully inching mine towards his. He reached forward and grabbed mine, intertwining our fingers. We smile at each other for a moment, just relishing having each other again. 

We stayed there for awhile, talking a bit, but mostly sitting in a comfortable silence, all the words we wanted to say inside the quiet. Happiness, as well as fragility, radiated off of him. Eventually, though, our handholding and joy had to come to an end when a nurse kindly asked me to leave, as visiting hours were over. I smiled, kissed his cheek again, and then hesitated for a second. I wasn’t sure if I should say what I wanted to. But, I did anyway, not being able to hold it in any longer.

“I love you.” I murmur in his ear, before hurrying away. I hoped he knew what I meant by that, but, honestly, I wasn’t sure myself what I meant. Saying it, it could come out as brother-sisterly love, but another way it could be taken is the love that was much more. 

I practically skipped out of the hospital, signing myself out. When I entered the waiting room, I was surprised to see Niall sitting down. His head lifted up when he heard me walk in and he stood up. I went to meet him, a questioning look on my face. Why was he here? 

“I, um, thought maybe you’d need a ride home.” He said, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. My eyes widened as I realized that I couldn’t ask him to bring me home, because I didn’t have a come.

‘Homeless freak.’ And like it usually is, it was right. 

“Um, I’m okay. I can find my own way home.” I mumble out, looking at the ground, my hair covering my face. I really wanted him to just leave, but it was obvious that he wouldn’t give up. 

“Come on. It’ll make everything easier.” He encourages. He wouldn’t take no for an answer. He kept urging me, though, even when I told him that I couldn’t, he continued to ask and plead and beg, until he finally grabbed my arm and practically dragged me to his car. He lifted me up by my armpits and set me into the passenger seat. He closed the door and hopped into the driver’s seat and sped off before I could even try to get out.

“Okay, give me directions.” He says after driving for about ten minutes. I didn’t know what to say. I knew these streets like the back of my hand, having wandered them for so many years, but I didn’t have a home to walk into once he let me be. I quickly came up with an idea of what I could possibly do.

I gave him the most random directions I could, until we were near a slightly busy area right outside a neighbor hood. 

“You can just drop me off right here. I can walk to my house easily.” I lie, smiling as real as I could, though it was clearly a fake one. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yep. Bye Niall.” I say as he parks.

“Bye I-still-don’t-know-what-your-name-is-because-you-refuse-to-tell-me.” He says, smiling. I lean forward without thinking and kiss his cheek, before jumping out of the car as quickly as I could, slightly embarrassed for my mistake. I rushed down the sidewalk until I turned a corner, checking behind me to make sure he was finally gone.

And then I kept walking, not stopping for as long as I could go, until nighttime aroused and I went down to an alley, ready to sleep my nights away around the garbage and rats of the alleyways. I moved a trash bag over to the side before lying where it once was, covering myself with it partially so that I couldn’t be seen. I had done this the majority of my life, so it was nothing new. And as I lay there, on the gravel floor, tiny rocks digging into my arms and legs, I thought about everything that had happened since I had last lay in the ditches like this. I wanted to desperately cry, but I told myself how weak I had been lately and how I should just suck it up and deal with it. 

The two weeks I had been away was more of a vacation and now that vacation was over, but I was nowhere near happy to be ‘home’. I didn’t have a home to return to. My home figure was the dark alleys of England. And so then I fell asleep nearly crying, not hearing the rough footsteps right outside my hiding place.

 

I was woken up by shaking. My groggy mind expected it to be Charlie waking me up for breakfast or something, so I turned over to ignore him. That’s when I smelled the garbage and I rolled into a puddle of dirty water. I shot up, all my years of living in the dumps waking up inside me. I immediately reached out and smacked the intruder as hard as I could, taking his surprise as my advantage and standing up, taking a second to punch and kick the man before running as quickly as I could. A hand grabs my arm and I flip around, slapping him and twisting his arm far enough that it caused extreme pain, but gentle enough not to break the bone. 

“Fuck.” A familiar voice groans behind me. I whip around to look at him in disbelief.

“Niall?! What the hell are you doing here?!” I shriek. I realized that I blew my cover. He knew that I was homeless now. 

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He yells back.

‘Living in your pathetic excuse for a home because your entire family is dead.’

 

“I, um, fell asleep by accident?” I say, it coming out as a question more than anything. 

“Bullshit. Tell me, are you homeless?” He seems exasperated. Instead of fighting it anymore, I just nod, ashamed and embarrassed. But that soon turns to anger.

“Why the fuck were you searching in a god damn alley that was pretty damn far away from where I last saw you?” His face goes slightly pale as he realizes his mistake.

“I was just wandering. That’s what I do at night. I just happened to stumble upon you.” He says firmly, but I know the difference between the truth and a lie.

“Liar!” I scream, wrenching my arm out of his hand. His face displays shock, but quickly turns into rage. This is the side of Niall I don’t like so much.

“I came here because I followed you with my car! I wanted to make sure you didn’t get your stupid ass raped or killed! And then I fucking find you sleeping in an alley!” He shouts, gripping my arm again, squeezing it unnaturally hard. I tried not to show my pain, but I’m sure something on my face must of given it away, as he calmed down slightly, loosening his grip. But I wasn’t done yet. 

“You practically stalked me! You realize that stalking is illegal, right?! You can get arrested for that! You cannot do that! And at the hospital you pretty much kidnapped me and you were about to do to do the same to me right then!” I screeched in his face. I could tell he was trying to keep his temper. When he spoke next he was calmer.

“Please. You are homeless, which signifies you need a home. I have a home that I would gladly share with you. As much of a dick as I seem, I’m not going to let you just live on the streets.” He says firmly. I allow him to lead me to his large Range Rover. But, I made him stop right outside of it.

“How do I know this isn’t some trick so that you can rape me or kill me or something?” I ask warily, nervous. He laughs lightly, obviously amused by my fear of him.

“Just come on. I promise not to forcefully fuck you. When I do, it sure as hell won’t be forceful. You’ll be begging for it.” He smirks, the cocky side of him showing profusely. I roll my eyes, lightly smacking his chest.

“Asshole.” I grumble as he throws his head back and laughs.

And then I get in his car as he gets in on the other side. And we drive away from the home I almost had once again.


	17. Chapter Seventeen

We make our way back to the city, as I had walked quite far away from it. It was silence besides the lowly playing music on the radio. I just stared out of the tinted windows, paying no mind to the boy who just stalked me in the driver’s seat. He only paid attention to the road, glancing at me once or twice. After driving for what felt like forever, we reached a part that I wasn’t familiar with. It had relatively nice houses and apartment buildings, slightly nicer than the ones that the whole shooting thing happened. We pulled into one of the large parking lots of one of the flat buildings. Niall parks the car in the first available parking space, though it was pretty barren and empty. I silently followed him out of the lot and into the lobby of the flats. We go into the elevator and to the seventh floor, the second highest, walking out when we reach it. I trail behind Niall like a lost puppy, keeping my eyes at the ground. At the third to final door, Niall pulls out a key from the pocket of his jeans, pushing it into the key hole and turning. 

We walk into the flat. It’s slightly nicer than the old one, the walls a black, the furniture leather, everything else white. There was a hallway that led to four doors, two on each side. The living room was nice, a comfortable feeling to it. The kitchen was pretty small, but large enough that it didn’t feel trapped. Overall it was a nice home.

I stood in the door way awkwardly as Niall walked around, taking his shoes off and setting his keys on the counter. I was still completely shocked he volunteered to allow me to stay in his home, despite his confession when he thought I was sleeping. I never thought he cared what happened to me, only the fact that he didn’t want me to run off and tell people what he did to me and possibly get him arrested. I still hardly believe the whole thing about him caring about me is a lie, but why would he make that up when he thought I was sleeping?

“What the hell are you doing?” He pulls me out of my dazed thoughts. I look up.

“Um, I don’t really know what to do or where to go.” I mumble, looking down at my feet. I was slightly shy. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but I was kind of nervous around him. I ignored it.

He rolls his eyes.

“Take your shoes off, put them next to mine. That’s less cleaning I have to do. And your room is the second on the left. Mine is the first on the right. Guest room is the second on the right, across from yours. Bathroom is the first on the left.” He explains quickly. 

“Where’s Charlie’s room going to be?” I ask, before widening my eyes as I realize something; he doesn’t know Charlie is still alive yet.

“What are you talking about? Charlie’s dead.” He says coldly, turning around to walk to what I assumed was his room. 

“He’s alive!” I blurted out. He turns around, looking at me with his piercing blue eyes. His face is hard, but his eyes show curiosity and shock.

“What?” He asks, raising a single eyebrow. I bite my lip. I wasn’t sure what to say. This could go two ways; he could be angry that I kept this from him or he could be overjoyed that his best friend is alive. 

“He’s alive. I visited him this morning before I left. It was a shock to me too.” I murmur, hoping he wouldn’t hear me, but his facial expression said he did. It was a mix of things; shock, anger, happiness, and upset. I quietly stood there as he stayed frozen, taking in the words I just uttered. He mumbled something I didn’t catch.

“What?” I said lowly, trying not to speak too loud in the silence that engulfed us.

“How long did you know!?” He suddenly shouts, his eyes darkening. I had only seen him like this few times, and all of those times did not turn out well. I don’t shrink back, as much as I wanted to. I stood my ground and looked him dead in the eyes.

“I was just wandering down the halls looking into the rooms, saying goodbye to the people I had visited, when I happened to pass by his rooms and see him. I didn’t tell you until now because I was too busy getting stalked around the city and practically getting kidnapped twice by the same person; you!” I hiss, crossing my arms in front of me, hiding the fact that my hands were in fists. He was about to say something else, but I cut him off.

“Want to know what’s sad? That you care more about the fact I kept this from you than that your best friend isn’t dead! You’re too busy being an asshole that you can’t see the good in this!” I spit, my anger building up. I knew it was a stupid fight and that we should just let it go, but the fact that he was too busy yelling at me to care pissed me off. I was in a way protective over him and it almost pained me to see that his best friend hardly cared he wasn’t dead. 

Niall looks taken aback. 

“I’m going to visit him tomorrow if you want to come. I don’t have a car and I don’t have money. I’ll walk if you’re too much of a bastard to visit your barely alive best friend.” I say. He rolls his eyes, not saying anything, before turning around and walking to his room. He lightly slams the door behind him, but not before I see his hands pressed so hard into fists that his fingers are white.

I sigh, pulling off my shoes and lightly placing them on them next to his.

‘He gives you a home and the first thing you do is argue with him and call him names? Ungrateful bitch.’ I couldn’t help but slightly agree with it. I pad to my room, recalling that he said it was the second on the left. I turn the doorknob, walking in. I opened my eyes widely in surprise. The room was incredible. The walls were light green, the bed queen-sized. There was a window that showed most of the city and a dresser as well as a vanity on the right wall. A closet lay on the right wall. A small bookshelf was next to the door, but it was empty. There was a desk next to the bed. It was a fairly large room, a lot nicer than the streets. 

I decided to look around it for a little bit. I nearly shrieked when I saw a laptop on top of the dresser. When I was younger, about ten, I was a technology freak. I carefully grabbed the computer from the dresser, holding it as if it were a precious child. I sat on the bed with it, feeling nervous as if someone would come in and yank it out of my hands, scolding me for taking something that wasn’t mine. A large, booming voice stops me from continuing.

‘You don’t deserve that! Put it the hell down right now. You are ungrateful and disgusting. You shouldn’t be living in a house at all, let alone having him buying you expensive things.’

I ignored it, though, powering the computer up. I played around on it for a bit, before spotting something in the bottom left corner; Microsoft Word. I knew that I’d definitely use that to write. 

When I was finished just looking around, a wave of exhaustion hit me like a train. The right corner told me it was three in the morning. I close the laptop, placing back on its area on the dresser. I fell on the sheets, not attempting to get under them. And then I slept; not in an alley, not in a dumpster, but in a real bed. Something I hadn’t been expecting to do again for awhile. 

 

When I awoke, light was streaming in through the window overhead. I wiped my eyes, sitting up groggily, expecting to be in an alley. I was shocked that I was in a comfortable bed, until I remembered what happened. I got up, walking out of the room. It was time to visit Charlie. 

Niall was sitting in the living room on the couch, watching television.

“I’m going to visit Charlie.” I mumble as I put my shoes on. He seems to hear me, looking over at my kneeling form. He clicks off the TV before standing up and walking over to me. He too puts his shoes on. I look at him with confusion littering my face.

“Why the hell are you looking at me like that?” He grumbles.

“Where are you going?” I say quietly. He hadn’t seemed all that excited about Charlie yesterday, so he couldn’t be coming with me to the hospital, right?

“The hospital. To visit Charlie. Just like you are. Are you stupid or something?” He snaps, saying it slowly as if I couldn’t speak English. I just shook my head and stood up, waiting for him to finish. When he does, we leave.

The ride there was uneventful, silence taking over us again. When we get to the hospital and park, we hop out. We get to the front desk where the same woman I had asked to see Charlie originally sitting there. 

“Charlie….” I trail off, not knowing his last name. Niall rolls his eyes and quickly gives her Charlie’s last name before she directs us to the room he is in. Before we head off to go see him, she says something.

“You two are cute together.” My eyes widen to saucers, shocked. I rapidly shake my head, causing her face to fall slightly. She apologizes before I hurry away, desperate to get out of the awkward situation. Niall just followed, laughing. 

We get to Charlie’s room and by then Niall’s laughter had turned to grim silence. I wasn’t sure how either of the two boys would react. Nevertheless, I opened the door, walking in on a tired looking Charlie.

He turns his head toward us, instantly smiling when he catches glance of me. His grin widens when he sees who is behind me.

“Hey.” I say, sounding like a complete dork. We stand there for a second just looking at each other. Then Charlie motions for us to sit down, which we do. We start to converse for awhile, though it is mostly Charlie and I talking. Niall just sat there practically pouting, only giving one word jackass answers. When a nurse comes in to tell us to leave, Niall almost seems happy to do so. I could see the slightly hurt look on his face as his best friend eagerly gets up to leave and it broke my heart. I wanted to slap Niall, but instead, I just leaned down and kissed Charlie’s cheek.

I don’t know what it was with me and kissing that boy’s cheek, but I always felt so compelled to do it, so I went for it. As my lips leave his cheek, the hospital room’s door swung shut, Niall leaving. 

“Ignore him. He’s a dick.” I comfort Charlie, leaving before a nurse comes back and yells at me that visiting hours are over. I walk to the parking lot, seeing Niall’s blonde hair and muscular body about to reach the car. I hurry to catch up with him, only feet away from the Range Rover before it started up. I was about to touch the handle of the door when it backed up, driving away at a high speed. I was left there as the exhaust of the car blew in my face. 

Niall drove away without me.

“What a douche.” I mumbled. The flats weren’t much farther away from the hospital by car, but walking would take at least forty-five minutes. I sigh, before beginning the trek to my new home.

The walk was long, but from my experience at traveling so much on foot, it wasn’t that tiring. When I finally made it back, dark was approaching. I ignored it, walking into the lobby and over to the elevator, taking it to the correct floor. It stopped a few times to let people in. I stayed in the corner, trying not to make any eye contact that could start a conversation. I didn’t do well with people, as you can probably tell. When we stopped on my floor, I scooted past everyone, walking to my destination.

I reached the brown wooden door, lifting my hand to knock. I rap my knuckles against it, waiting. I heard no movement from inside. I took that as he didn’t hear me. So, I tried again.

No response.

I finally did it one more time, knocking it extremely hard by this point.

“No one’s home!” A voice yelled from inside. I rolled my eyes at the Irish accent that leaked through the door. Was he seriously that stupid or did he just decide to mess with me?

“Let me in!” I say loudly, not yelling because there were people in the flats next to ours. I repeated this over and over again, knocking hard against the door, before finally giving up. 

He locked me out and wasn’t going to let me in any time soon.

I leaned against the door, sliding down it. I ran my fingers through my knotted blonde hair, ripping through the tangles. I stayed like this.

‘Maybe if you weren’t such a selfish bitch-’ 

“Stop it!” I cut it off, gripping my head.

‘You deserve this.”

“Stop!” I murmured. I pull at my hair, trying to stop the pounding words that run through my mind. It continues and I can’t do anything to stop it. My head started to ache. I lightly hit it against the door. The impact took the pain away for a slight second before it returned. I continued to softly band my head against the door, not loud enough to make any noise.

‘Disgusting.’ “No!”

‘Selfish.’ “Stop!”

‘Horrible.’ “Why do I deserve this? What did I do!?” I cried, practically pulling out strands of my hair at this point. Tears started to leak out of my eyes at the pain; physical and mental.

‘Weak.’  
‘Horrendous.’  
‘Ungrateful.’  
‘Doesn’t deserve to live.’  
‘Die.’  
‘Fuck up.’  
‘Slut.’  
‘Whore.’  
‘Bitch.’

I kept silently screaming at it to stop. I finally hit my head against the door with one last loud bang before I blacked out.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

I woke up, my head pounding at an abnormal speed. I grip it, squeezing my eyes shut in an attempt to block out the harsh sun that was worsening my condition. I try to breathe slowly, dizziness taking over my senses. When I finally decide I’m well enough to drop my fingers from my hair and reopen my eyes, I do, letting the scene in front of me to enter my vision.

I’m shocked to see I am in my bed in Niall’s flat. The last I could remember was sitting against the front door, the voice in my head taunting me immensely. Niall had locked me out, why was I inside? Who brought me here and how did they get in? Niall obviously was too angry or upset, for a reason still unknown to me, that he wouldn’t dare do anything like that, right? He was the one who locked me out!

I knew I was too lightheaded to go anywhere; I could hardly move without my vision blacking out for a few seconds as my head ached. I lay there, unmoving, with my eyes lightly shut, my head hurting and my mind thinking too much to sleep.

I for once relished the cold temperatures of England, letting the cool air seep through the walls and cover my skin. I felt sick and nauseous. I did nothing but try to slow my thought process to eliminate some of the pain. I dozed off once or twice, quickly waking when the throbbing got too overwhelming.

As much as I tried to tune it out, the voice was there also, attacking me with words that hurt nearly as much as the headache they brought with them.

Night fell and the darkness felt nice. It wasn’t until around midnight, I estimated, that someone entered the room. I knew it had to be Niall, so I shut my eyes quickly, purposely making my breathing slow so it looked more believable. A wet washcloth was placed on my forehead, making me nearly moan in relief, the coolness of the water seeping out of the fabric easing a bit of the pain. I kept quiet.

A piece of hair was brushed off my face lightly; almost feeling like the touch of a butterfly. I held my breath; why would he do such an affectionate act? I held back a gasp as the rough yet gentle hands softly caressed my face, pulling any stray hairs away.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers, continuing to brush his fingers against the skin of my face. It felt soothing and nice, nearly making me wish he wouldn’t stop. But, he did, touching my hair one more time before leaving the room. When I was sure he was gone, I opened my eyes, shocked. I’d never seen that side of him before, except outside the burning house. He’d always had that bad exterior look on, like he wouldn’t hesitate to kill something defenseless. But what he just did was anything but harmful. And he apologized. It could have been for a thousand things that he had done. It was strange; he had said it so kindly, so gently. He sounded so innocent and pure. Did this have anything to do with the confession he also said when he thought I was asleep? He said he wasn’t supposed to care about me, but he did, and I still have deciphered what he exactly meant.

He acted like he despised me, constantly getting upset at whatever I did, yelling and screaming for stupid things. It was confusing and just thinking about it made my head throb. I kept my eyes open, staring at the ceiling that I actually could see well because of the fact my eyes had adjusted. I knew I probably wouldn’t sleep any time soon; the pain made it unbearable. The horrid nightmare that I still had every time I slept no longer affected me much; most of the time I lucid dreamt, meaning that I knew I was in a dream and I could control it. This train of thought about the haunting images I had every time I slumbered overtook the one about Niall, and I started to think about why this was happening.

It happened every night that I decided to sleep, but I had begun to be able to control it. The lucid dreaming gave me the ability to stop it, or at least the pain that came with it. It hardly affected me anymore, only freaking me out for a brief second before I stopped it, making it much more bearable than the first few times I had it. I wasn’t afraid to go to sleep anymore and did it normally now. The one thing that never went away, though, was the voice. I was completely convinced that it was my conscious or just my thoughts; I had been since it first started bothering me when I was young. But, now, I was started to question what it was and if it was my doing, or something that I had no control over.

Was it something more than just a voice my mind made up?

A million thoughts a minute ran through my head, making me question everything I had ever known. I was almost tempted to tell someone about it so that we could research further, but I trusted no one enough, not even Charlie. This was something I was sure I could deal with, it always had been. But, then again, it had always been a small little voice, never as powerful as it was earlier. I had never been so overwhelmed by it as I was in the hallway.

All I could do was keep it a secret and hope it leaves.

And thoughts kept kicking and screaming and making my head hurt more than I thought possible. I eventually got the willpower to make my mind as blank as I possibly could. I then fell asleep despite the amount of pain my head was feeling.

This time, when I was plunged into darkness, I didn’t see the familiar confines of an invisible box suffocating. This was different.

I was in a clearing, surrounded by trees. But it was one of those happy fun forests with a billion birds and happy squirrels; this forest was dark and dank, fog and mist surrounded me. I couldn’t see more than the edges of the trees; I had no view into the forest. It was night and through the blackness all I could see were the faint outlines of pines. It was extremely creepy, but I wasn’t terrified. I had dealt with dark places alone many times before. I tried to take a step and walk out of the circled clearing, but my feet remained heavy and didn’t move an inch. I tried and tried and tried until I felt exhausted, but I didn’t move so much as a millimeter. A sound is made to the left of me and I swivel my body to see. Something, a person to be exact, was standing between two of the trees that enclosed me. This got me slightly worried; if I couldn’t move, they could do whatever they wanted to me. When the person stepped forward and I finally got a glimpse of them, I tried to gasp, but no sound came out. It was merely an intake of breath that couldn’t be heard. The person was my mother, her cold dead eyes staring right into my soul. I saw a glint of something in her hand, something I had seen millions of times. Suddenly, a rustle was made on the complete opposite side. I turn quickly to see, trying to keep my mother and her knife in my vision at the same time. My father was there. And then the entire forest erupted in quiet movements as people stepped out between the trees simultaneously. I looked around, staring at each and every face. I knew them all. Their emotionless faces aren’t what scared me; it was the fact that each and everyone one of them had some sort of weapon. Whips, knives, guns, scalpels, scissors, you name it, and they had it. And it was obvious they wouldn’t just stand there and not use it. The first person stepped forward; my mother. She had a long, thin knife in her hand. She walked towards me and opened her mouth to speak. Instead of her light, kind voice I had heard as a child, a blood chilling, deep, demented voice boomed throughout the forest.

“You hurt us. You hurt us all. You made us suffer and you are the reason some of us are dead. It is your fault. You need to be tortured the way you did to us.” She says, walking up to me. She raises the knife. I try to move, try to get away, but I am stuck to the ground, no possible way that I could escape. She grips my arm before pressing the knife to the top of my forearm. She pushes the point into my skin then slowly, excruciatingly slow, trails down with it, making a shallow, but extremely painful cut going straight down my arm. I try to scream out in pain, but no sound comes out. My mother just smirks at me, before walking back to her place between the trees. The next person to come up is my father. He holds a leather whip in his hand. He smirks evilly before raising it in the air and slapping it against my back. If I hadn’t been frozen in place, I would have crumbled to the ground. He does this again and again, until I can hardly feel the pain anymore. Small drops of blood from my arm fall into the dirt. When my father finally decides he is finished, the next person comes up. By now silent tears fall down my face, blurring the person in front of me, but I still knew who it was; my grandmother. She held a machete. My sweet old grandmother who took care of me for years smiled at me before slicing my side. This went on, different people who were a part of my life coming up and torturing me in every way possible. Old foster parents, aunts, cousins, etc. They all attacked me. But none of the wounds they inflicted were enough to kill me and I knew why; they wanted to make me suffer through it; and I did. The final person started to come up. I was in more pain than I had ever been in and I knew this last one would kill me. When I painfully pulled my head up to see who was my final assaulter, I looked into blue eyes I knew very well. The pale hands cock a gun, aiming right for the place between my eyebrows.

“Bye.” And then he pulls the trigger.

I sit up, sweat pouring down my face. I grip the bed sheets tears spilling down my face. I breathe heavily, trying to stop the images from flashing through my mind. My eyes are squeezed shut as I quietly sob, thinking of the things they said and the pain they put upon me. I feel a hand on my back and I scream, scrambling away from the hand in fear.

“Get away from me!” I shriek, not stopping to open my eyes. I don’t want anyone touching me.

“Calm down!” A familiar voice says firmly. I open my eyes to see Niall standing on the side of my bed, his hair ruffled and shirt off. Normally, my eyes would be tracing his tattoos, but I was too frightened to do anything. I bite my lip, forcing the tears to stop falling.

“What the fuck are you doing? You were screaming at six in the damn morning.” He groans, rubbing his eyes. I look down at my hands, not wanting to look him in the eyes. I probably look ridiculous and the amount of embarrassment coursing through my body was making it impossible for me to respond. We stand in silence for awhile before I speak, changing the subject completely.

“Why’d you lock me out? And how did I get back here?” I mumble, still not looking up. I hear a sharp intake of breath from him and I faintly notice him ruffle his hair a bit. He seemed nervous almost.

“I didn’t hear you knock or anything, so I didn’t know you were out there. When I went to go get something, I saw you passed out on the floor, so I lifted you up and brought you inside.” He lies.

“Bullshit.” I mutter under my breath.

“Excuse me?”

“I said thank you. For helping me inside.” I spit out the word helping, knowing very well that he did not help me.

“Why did you drive away in the parking lot?” I asked, gaining the courage to look him right in his eyes. He bites his lip as if he was thinking of a lie to tell me and just as he opens his mouth, he is cut off by the phone ringing. He breathes a sigh of relief before walking out of the room.

“Shit.” I hear him loudly say a few minutes later. I cautiously walk out, peering into the hallway. Niall is getting dressed messily, black jeans already on. He hopped around shirtless, looking for a top, the phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear. He yanks on a shirt, obviously listening closely to the person on the phone. He runs his hands through his hair before quickly jogging over to where he kept his shoes. He slid them on before opening the door and walking out. And then I was left alone.

I walk around the flat, looking at everything for awhile. I took in every detail of my new home.

Home. What a different word. I’d only used it to describe something no more than five times in my life, and all of those were short. The fact that I now have a real place to call a home again was something I didn’t think could happen again. I wasn’t used to this at all. Niall’s other flat wasn’t a home; more like a prison. And the burnt down house wasn’t exactly much better. I couldn’t leave. But this is the first place in awhile that I didn’t feel like I was forced to be.

And it was nice.

I finally walk back to my room and lay on my bed again, staring at the plain ceiling.

The nightmare starts to run through my mind again and I feel like I’m reliving the pain. Tears squeeze out of my eyes as I remember it. It was probably one of the worst things I had every experienced. I guess I had a new nightmare that’ll make me force myself to stay awake. What if this is going to happen every time I start to get used to one of the torturous dreams?

I ignored my thoughts, trying to think of anything but the nightmare.

‘You deserved it. The pain.’

‘That nightmare is exactly what you need. The torture is what should be done to you every second of your life. You don’t deserve to live. You deserve a long, painful death. Just like the one you experienced in your little dream. That was only a taste of what is going to happen to you when everyone realized how disgusting you are.’ I shiver at the words running through my head.

I started to imagine the nightmare again in my head, thinking about the savage looks on the faces of the people who inflicted the torture on me. The kind eyes I had always known were turned into cold, angry ones.

The worst one was not my mother, or father, or grandmother, though. It was the last killing gunman that hurt me the most. It hurt me so much, even though I knew it wasn’t real, to see someone I cared about so much want me to die. I knew the feeling of knowing someone wished you death, I always had, but this was so much different. It was just words he used to say he wanted me dead; he actually did it. And that’s what pained me, along with terrified me. I couldn’t handle the fact that my mind could even fathom coming up with a situation like that. My thoughts were a dark place where I hid my emotions and my secrets, but I never thought it could actually create something like that. And that scared me; knowing that my head was so fucked up that I could cause a dream such as that to occur. Especially the final moments of it.

And all I keep thinking about is the look in his blue eyes as he killed me without a second thought.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

A few hours had past. It was ten in the morning and Niall had left at six. I was extremely bored, not having anything to do. I didn’t have money, I didn’t have any transportation, I could do nothing but wait. And so I did. 

I stared at the ceiling while lying on my bed, thoughts running through my head like crazy, hardly giving me a chance to remember to breathe. The one thing that always came back over and over again was the look of the blue eyes going right through me, not giving a damn about what they were doing. They didn’t care when I did and I couldn’t seem to let that go. 

A few more hours pass. It was two now, according to my bedside digital clock, and I still hadn’t moved from my position. I knew I should get up a do something, but my body felt heavy and I had literally no willpower to get up.

An hour later I did. I felt filthy, so I took a long shower. That lasted twenty minutes and then when I got out I put the clothes I was wearing before back on. And then I was right back to the spot on my bed. I stayed there for another hour. 

This went on for some while, me doing something such as eating, and then going straight back to my spot on the bed. It was five by now; Niall still hadn’t come back. I didn’t know where he was and I honestly didn’t really care. But at the same time, I guess I did, because I couldn’t fathom leaving before he got back. I was getting slightly tired, as my body still was slightly weak from fainting and I had grown used to sleeping regularly. My mind was getting bored and with that I would start to doze off, only being awoken by some little noise or the lovely little voice in my head. It had continued to bother me about the nightmare, consistently telling me how much every single one of the people hate me and how I deserved the torture. It started to go faster and faster, making my head spin. I knew what was coming. The same thing had happened outside of the flat door. I closed my eyes, trying to calm my breathing and make my mind clear, not giving in to the temptation of screaming back at it.

It felt like someone was screaming in my ear using a megaphone and slamming my head against concrete at the same time. I make my body go still and then relax, forcing myself to think of other things, completely ignoring the loudest voice among them all. But it’s so hard and I’m so tempted to dig my nails into my scalp and scream back. 

It eventually slows, allowing me to let out a deep breath I didn’t know I was holding. I look over at the clock again, noticing the slight darkness in room; it read 7:19 p.m. Niall had been gone for over twelve hours. I almost felt awkward being alone in his flat, even though I knew it was technically mine as well. And so I went back to my routine of laying in silence, wondering when Niall was going to come home. 

Home.

Every time I heard that word, it sounded foreign and strange. But now I had one. And that too felt foreign and strange. 

8:01 p.m. Still no sign of Niall. I was nearly in complete darkness. I heard the noises of the city below and that made me think of the window above my bed. I stood up carefully, making sure I didn’t cause any dizziness with my sudden movement. I stand on the tips of my toes to see through the glass and out into the night. The window was large and it was indented quite far into the wall. I got an idea.

A few minutes later my head was leaning against the cool glass and I was curled up on the ledge in front of the window. It was calming and nice and I let the lights of the city take over my thoughts. 

At nearly midnight, the front door slammed open. I ignored it. Most people would start panicking if the entrance to their house was violently opened, but I knew from Niall’s temper it could easily be him. I stayed where I was, not paying any attention to the sound of crashing objects. A voice rang out. 

“We know you’re here Horan.” It was a deep, grumbling voice; one I wasn’t familiar with. That’s when I realized it was not Niall and that they were inside the very house I was. My eyes widen and I quickly jump down onto my bed. I had hardly left my room in the days I had been here; I didn’t know any hiding places or any secret exits. I was trapped.

So, I did what any logical person would do. I crawled onto the floor as quietly as I could, cringing every time a loud banging noise was heard throughout the flat. I slid quickly under my bed, the bottom of it brushing my head. It was extremely difficult, the height from the floor to the underside of the bed only six or so inches. I somehow made it, though, holding my nose to stop from sneezing from all of the dust. The pounding footsteps made there way down the hall that held all of the rooms, including the one I was hiding in right now. I held my breath, not wanting to risk making a single sound. I hardly realized I was trembling. I waited as the voices of men I didn’t know rang around the house, cutting off the eerie silence. Suddenly, my door flew open.

I took a deep gulp of breath before holding it in. I was completely convinced they could hear my heart rapidly beating in my chest. There was complete silence for awhile, the only sound what I figured out was three men’s footsteps. The light flicked on and I could see the bottoms of their combat boots. My closet door and drawers were opened and so far I knew I hadn’t been seen. They started to whisper something I couldn’t pick up before they left, turning off the light. I let out the breath. 

I was safe for now. They had moved on from my room and were looking throughout the house. They most likely wouldn’t end up coming back into this room, so I was okay. 

Suddenly, something grabbed my foot. I was dragged out from under the bed like a rag doll. My head hit the edge of the bed, immediately sending a wave of pain throughout my body, but the shock in my body masked it. I had dealt with things like this before and my instincts quickly brought me out of my surprise and into fighting mode. I twisted my ankles while kicking out at my captor, trying to get them to release their grip. I was on the floor now, a large hand gripping both my ankles. It was dark and I could hardly make out the large body, but I knew where to grab. I reached one arm up and caught his wrist with my hand, digging my nails sharply into it. I heard the man curse before getting a stronger grip on my leg. I reached up and took a hold of his index finger, the most sensitive of all of the hand, and twisted it back as sharply as I could. 

The man yelled out in pain, letting go of my legs. I took that as I chance to flip over and push up to my feet, running as fast as I could out the door. Halfway down the hallway I stumbled straight into a large muscled body. He grabbed both of my wrists and pinned me against the nearest wall. I kicked out with my legs, trying to hit him in an area I knew would send him crumbling, but as soon as I started, a sharp stinging sensation was left on my face. I gasped, my head moving to the left from the force. I’m stunned for a moment, but only for a moment, because as soon as I regain my composure the lights go on and I can see my target. I kick out with all the power I had and the man holding me fell to the ground groaning. I ran to the door, my hand on the doorknob, about to turn it. Just as I’m about to fling it open, a voice stops me.

“Open the door and I’ll pull the trigger.” I slowly turn around to face where the words came from. A large man with many tattoos was facing me, his arm up holding a gun. I gasp quietly, making a split second decision. I take my hand off the door and turn around completely, trying to stop myself from shaking. He smirks.

“Good choice. Dan, Sawyer, grab her.” The two other men, one limping and then other gripping one of his hands, come up to me, each grabbing an arm. Their grips are strong and I know I’m not going to be getting out of this. The man still hasn’t dropped his hold on the gun, still aiming for my chest. He motions with the weapon to bring me closer. I’m dragged over to where he is, so close that if I took one more step I could reach out and touch him. I keep a brave face on, clenching my jaw in a way to show him I was willing to fight. He just chuckles cockily at me. 

“Hot one we got here, aye. A fighter too.” He strokes my face with the gun, turning my chin from side to side with it. The cold metal felt anything but safe and as much as I wanted to reach out and slap him, I couldn’t. I squirm at the way he looks at me up and down, disgusted. 

“But that’s not exactly a good thing. I don’t need my little ballerina’s over here getting a boo boo.” He mocks motherliness. I desperately wanted to roll my eyes but I kept them trained on his, still not backing down. 

“We only need you to answer one question and then we’ll be on our way.” He says, practically spitting in my face. It takes everything I have to not crinkle my face up in disgust. His breath smelled of cigarettes and alcohol. I nodded for him to go on. I was nervous in a way, unsure of what the question could be. 

“We know Niall lives here and that you’re his bitch-”

“I’m not his bitch.” I snarl, cutting him off. Rage filled his eyes. He positions the gun so it’s pressed against my chin. I look down at it slightly, fear spreading throughout my body. One click and my head would be blown to pieces.

“Shut up!” He barks, pressing it harder against the bottom of my face. I hold back a yelp as he cocks it.

“I’m going to say this one more time. We know Niall lives here and you’re his bitch, so you’ll know where he is. Tell us where the fuck he is and then we’ll let you be. Don’t, and, well, you look smart enough to figure that out on your own.” He smirks at me, his black, evil, cunning eyes piercing into mine. 

“I don’t know where he is.” I say, trying to keep my voice as strong as I could. He narrows his eyes, gripping the gun tighter in his hand. He pulls the gun off of my chin and slaps me quickly, before putting the gun back to my face. I can’t hold back a whimper of surprise when his hand connects with my face.

“Bullshit. Where the fuck is he?” He growls. I widen my eyes. I truly had no idea where he was and because of that I was probably going to get blown to pieces. I move my mouth but no sound comes out, unsure of what to say. He presses the metal harder against my chin and I try not to make my trembling visible, but I knew that all of them could see my shaking. Tears of fear and anger fill my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall, biting my lip so hard I can nearly taste blood. 

“I don’t know. He got a phone call and then stormed out of the house this morning. I haven’t seen him since.” My voice rose an octave as I finished, knowing this wasn’t the answer he was looking for. For the first time, I look down, not meeting his eyes. I could feel the fury radiating off him. I regretted saying anything. I could see by the vein pumping in his neck and his extremely red face that he was going to scream at me and probably end my life, but the door slamming open stops him. When he looks around us to see who it is, an evil grin curls on his lips. I couldn’t turn around to see who had entered the house, but the voice that spoke gave me my answer.

“What the fuck are you doing in my house, Chris?” Niall spits. Chris motions to the other men to turn me around so I was facing the blond. 

“We caught your little slut and tried to get where you were out of her. Whore lied and said she didn’t know.” Christ smiles as he says it, not backing down for a second at the venom in his voice. Niall’s eyes open wider in shock when he sees me. Christ walks around so he’s in front of the man holding my right arm. He presses the barrel of the gun to the side of my head casually, as if it was hardly something that could kill me in a split second. For a second it was silent, the two men glaring each other down. 

“Well, you know where I am now. Let her go.” Niall growls, motioning to the huge men holding me back from freedom.

“I thought that maybe we could use her. For bait, for trade, for other things.” Chris licks his lips and I visibly shudder, holding back from vomiting. I didn’t want to be apart of their gang bang or whatever they were planning, I just wanted to be back in the home in the hills, safe from everything but rabid raccoons. But, instead, I was being used as a toy in a deal between two men. 

“She’s no part of this. Let her go. Settle this like a man instead of a coward.” Niall snaps, saying coward as though it hurt him to utter it. Chris practically flinched at that, but his hurt was quickly overrun by anger. He pushed the gun hard against my temple, so hard that it left a ring of indented skin where it was. I cringe at the sound of the gun cocking again. My breathing starts to become slightly heavy, my head spinning as every scenario runs through my mind. I didn’t know if I was going to make it out of this. One wrong move and I’d be dead. 

“It’s obvious that you care about this girl. How about we make a deal?” The anger leaves   
Chris’ face and he’s right back to his old smirk, showing profusely that he had an idea. I was almost certain I knew what he meant, but I didn’t allow myself to let myself think about it. I just stood still, waiting for him to say the words.

Niall was unmoving, waiting for him to continue with his brilliant plan. I was still extremely confused on why these men were in his house and why they were holding me hostage. Why did the want Niall so badly? That’s the question that needed to be answered. But I didn’t dare question it, the fact that there was a gun pressed to my head holding me back from doing anything but tremble in fear.

“We take you and we let the girl go; but if you refuse to come, we’ll just have to take her with us.” Chris says. I was correct with my assumption of what his oh-so-great deal was. It was a trade; a trade for a life. Right now it was my life against Niall’s, but it was no one’s choice except the blond boy in front of me, his face portraying shock.

“No. We’re not playing your sick games.” Niall snaps. Chris just laughs at him, pressing the gun inexplicably harder against my aching head.

“Your choice, Horan.” 

And then he placed his finger on the trigger of the gun, a nanosecond away from pulling it all the way back, in the way that would release the bullet at top speed, killing me instantly.


	20. Chapter Twenty

I squeeze my eyes shut, waiting for the impact. Each second feels like a minute. I’m shaking harder than I ever thought possible and the few tears that had been building up in my eyes spilled out. I was honestly terrified.  
“Stop!” A voice calls out. I recognized it as Niall. The gun left my head and I let out a deep breath, the worry flowing out of my body. My eyes open to meet the blue of Niall’s. His eyes flicker down to his hands and I follow them. He flicks his wrist back, putting it in the shape of a gun before aiming at the two men holding me. I nodded ever so slightly to show him I understood.  
“Fine. I’ll go with you. Let her go.” He says, taking a step forward. I see Chris smirk as he does, and the two large men let go of my arms. Niall nods at me, signaling to do what I needed to. I reach forward stealthily and twist Chris’ unsuspecting wrist back, making him drop the gun. I grab it off the floor as quickly as I could. I aim it at Sawyer first, closing my eyes as I pull the trigger. A shot rang out. I glance behind me to see Niall tackling Chris, punching him consistently. That glance was probably one of the worst things I could possibly do, as the second I turn back, something heavy was pushed against me. I flew to the ground, my body knocking against the ground hard.  
Luckily, I never lost hold of the gun. I lay on the floor stunned for a fraction of a second before leaping to my feet, only for my hair to be yanked back. A yelp of pain escapes my mouth as I’m thrown onto my back by my hair. I grip the gun in my hand for dear life, knowing that if I lost it, Niall’s and my chances of survival would be minuscule. Large hands take hold of my feet and start to drag me across the floor. I flip onto my front side, holding myself up with my arms. I continue to turn my body at different angles as quickly as I could, trying to loosen his grip. Right before I was dragged out the door, I took a leap of faith, and pushed my body forward as hard as I could. Dan’s grip lightened greatly. I took this as encouragement to jump forward again. I did, and this time, I managed to get him to let go. I get to my feet as quickly as I could. I point the gun with both hands right at Dan’s head, locking eyes with his. He looks shocked. I ignore it.   
“Don’t you dare fucking move.” I grit my teeth, spitting out each word with as much venom as I could muster. At that moment, I wasn’t thinking about the fact I had just murdered someone and I was about to kill another. I wasn’t thinking about how someone living or dying was in my hands. All I could think about was my life and another boy’s life is in danger. My instincts to protect myself kicked in.   
“If you take one more god damn step, I will pull this trigger without any remorse.” I growl. The sounds of punching and kicking behind me ceased as everyone waited to see what we would do. Dan started to take steps backwards until he was out the door. Then, he turned and ran. I waited until I was sure he was gone before turning around, still pointing the gun. It was now aimed at Chris. Niall was holding Chris’ arm behind his back in a way that probably ached every time he tried to move.   
Bruises littered both the boys’ faces. I again stared straight into the eyes of my prey, piercing his dark eyes with my own. I knew he understood that I wasn’t afraid to kill a man; it showed with Sawyer’s bleeding body lying on the floor.   
“Would you like to follow your little friend or will I have to kill you like your other colleague?” I asked coldly, raising a single eyebrow. There was silence. I switched my grip on the gun purposely, showing him I needed an answer. Suddenly, both of their eyes went to behind me and Niall opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but I was cut off from hearing it when something rammed into my body, throwing me to the ground. The gun clattered onto the floor and out of my grip. I was pulled up sharply by my wrist. I turned slightly to be met with the one I thought I was safe from; Dan. He had come back and was now keeping me from going after the gun that now lay on the floor. No body made a move to go after it; Dan was holding me and Chris was being held by Niall.   
In a split second, Niall dove for the metal weapon. Chris was free and instantly went after him, only to be cut off by the ring of a shot. Dan fell to the floor behind me and Niall started running out the door, looking back at me as a signal to follow him. I did, running as quickly as I could. We ran down the hall, ignoring the strange looks of people who had either come out to see what the shots were or who were just out for their own purposes. We ran down the flights of steps, not bothering with the elevator, knowing it would take much too long.   
Sprinting into the parking lot, we avoided the cars coming in and out, going for the black range rover in the corner. Niall pulled out the keys from his pocket, unlocking it quickly. I heard large echoing footsteps and I turn to see Chris running after us. I look at Niall with wide eyes as we both open the door, slamming it behind us. I subconsciously lock the doors, knowing that he could easily just break through a window.   
Niall shoved the keys into the ignition, cursing when it would start. It didn’t turn on, signaling that the batteries were probably dead. He bangs on the steering wheel, turning the key again and again to no avail.   
Chris was mere feet away from the car and that’s when I started truly worrying. The car wouldn’t start and a man who was after out blood was close. Just as Chris reached us, the car seemed to magically start up. We pulled out of the space haphazardly, driving as quickly as we could.   
We left Chris behind us, looking angry at our escape. I lean back into the seat, not fully feeling secure until we were out on the road again. I caught the air I didn’t realize I had been gasping for, breathing in deeply. Niall was silent beside me, all his attention on the road. He went quickly, obviously over the speed limit. He eventually slowed down enough that we wouldn’t get a ticket. I had no idea where we were at the moment. It was some busy streets with large shops. I ignored it, staring at Niall with my eyes the size of saucers, completely stunned at what had just happened. He took no notice of my eyes, only focusing on the task at hand.   
“What… the actual hell… was that?” I breathed. Niall didn’t answer; though I saw his body go rigid. I just shook my head before leaning back in the car seat, looking out the window that was to my right.  
My hands started to shake as I realize what I had just done; I killed someone. I bite my lip hard to hold back a gasp I knew was coming. I had killed someone. I had been through so much and seen more than you could ever imagine; but I had never thought I would have ever been able to kill someone. I started to tremble, my mind racing with all the thoughts, images of Sawyer’s dead body implanted in my mind. It was horrible, absolutely atrocious, knowing I was the cause of someone’s life ending. I tried to stop thinking about it but I couldn’t. It was literally all that was filling my brain. And when I thought it couldn’t possibly get worse, the voice decided to come and add its input.  
‘It should have been you dying. You were the one who deserved it. Everyone definitely wishes they had been able to go through with killing your worthless self. I do, Niall does, and Charlie does, everyone. And to top it off, you took someone else’s life. Just another thing to add to your list of horridness, right? That’s all it is to you; a challenge to make every single person’s life you meet horrible.’ It spits. I squeezed my eyes shut, holding in the tears. I shouldn’t be crying; I wasn’t the one who was dead. If anything, I should be the one being killed for doing such a thing. A life for a life, right? That’s something I had always believed, and now that I had taken a life, I couldn’t help but think it was my life next.   
My eyes overflow completely and one tear falls down my face. I reach up and brush it off quickly, hoping no one saw it. I was so fucking weak. I could never seem to stop crying. I was always the stupid baby that couldn’t hold in what she felt because she was too feeble to. I sobbed for the most idiotic things and I knew that. Yet, I couldn’t seem to stop the flow of tears every time and I hated myself for that. And I hated myself for letting my parents and grandmother die. And I hated myself for never being able to live a happy life in a foster home because I was too busy trying to get out. And, now, I hated myself for killing a man. I was a disgusting piece of shit.   
I spent the entire car ride like this, silently hating on myself and picturing me pulling the trigger. I allowed no more tears to fall out, practically tearing up my bottom lip to do so. I tried to keep my attention on the scenery outside the window, but my thoughts kept overtaking it. I paid no mind to what was going on and where we were; only thinking about how I had killed someone. I couldn’t help it. I had always been one of those people who swore they would never do something like that, but I just had, and that is what made it worse. We finally pulled up somewhere and I looked up; the hospital. I was extremely confused on why we were here, though it was obvious Niall knew exactly what he was doing. I just followed him like a puppy, my head down, staring at his black converse as he walked. I didn’t want anyone to see my murderous face. We walked inside and Niall went up to the front desk, talking to the woman there. I didn’t listen to what they were saying, the voice yelling at me from inside my very head, telling me how worthless and disgusting I was.  
‘Murderer.’ Was the one word it repeated over and over again like a chant. I knew it was right, so I didn’t try to stop it. My head pounded with the three syllable word, it getting louder and louder with every repetition. I followed Niall wherever he was supposed to go, ignoring all the strange looks I got from the bright redness on my cheek. The slaps had done that; I had seen my reflection in the car window. We continued down the hall, the shiny whiteness of it hurting my already aching head. We walked into a room that I didn’t take the time to look around at. I kept my head down, walking after Niall. I didn’t take notice of him stopping, causing me to crash right into him. I stumble back, lifting my head up to apologize when I realize where we were; Charlie’s hospital bedroom. I turn to where I know the bed will be and I immediately see the shaggy dark hair and pale blue eyes. I don’t know whether to smile or cry; I was happy to see him, but even as I looked at the boy known as my best friend, the images of a man’s death kept rolling through my head. I decide on a weak smile, lifting my hand mechanically to wave.   
Charlie’s grinning face falls down into a frown as he takes in my distraught state. His eyes practically ask me if I’m okay. As I’m about to shake my head no, the word weak flashes through my head, instantly making me nod my head and widen the fake smile. I couldn’t let anyone see how weak and horrible I was; the voice was there to remind me of that. I just stare into his blue eyes, willing him to believe the obvious lie. I did this so forcefully that I missed what Niall had said. I turn to him, my face obviously displaying confusion, which he rolls his eyes at.   
“I said, the doctor decided we are allowed to take Charlie home today. Apparently he had been doing better than they had ever expected or something.” He says, clearly annoyed at my lack of paying attention. I look at him with mild shock; hadn’t I only been here a few days ago when Dr. Lauren said he wouldn’t be allowed out for another week? I just shrugged it off, forcing that fake smile back on my face again. I gave out an enthusiastic ‘yay’ that nearly hurt to say. I was excited that he was coming home, but that also meant I’d have to fake my happiness more than I had to with Niall. We sit down in the chairs, mine closest to him. It’s silent for awhile before Charlie turns towards me and motions to come closer. I do, and he quietly whispers in my ear, low enough that no one else could hear us.  
“I don’t think you’re really okay. That smile almost looks like you are in pain.” He murmurs. I shrug my shoulders, unsure of what to say. He was completely right, though. I sat back down, keeping my eyes anywhere but him. Eventually, Dr. Lauren entered. I kept the fake smile on my face as I greeted her. She told us everything we needed to do to ensure Charlie wouldn’t need to come back and scheduled for the next appointment to get the stitches in his chest out and filled out some paperwork. After much signing and conversing, we eventually got to leave. We slowly walked back to the car with Charlie, who was surprisingly strong for someone who had pretty much died no many days ago. I hopped in the back seat, assuming Charlie would take the passenger, but to my surprise he slid in next to me. I tiny real smile made its way on my face as he practically chose sitting next to me in oppose to his best friend. I saw Niall faintly clench his jaw before turning on the car and driving away. I was extremely confused on where we were going, as our flat was probably being investigated as we speak. We drove and drove, going through hills and cities. We eventually stop at a ferry place. Niall seemed to know exactly why we were here and so did Charlie, so I didn’t question it. We paid for tickets and Niall left to help with getting his car onto it. That left Charlie and I alone to get onto the boat itself. We hand in our tickets and make out way onto the ship, the cold air whipping at my bare arms, raising little goose bumps and making me shiver. We go into the inside of the boat, where we were met by Niall minutes later. None of us spoke, quietly sitting around. It was like this for some while until we were docked and told to leave.   
We eventually got the Range Rover and soon we were driving again. The place we were in was very green for October and extremely beautiful. It kept my attention for awhile, as I had no idea where we were, but soon my mind wandered back to the visions of death. They didn’t go away for more than a few minutes before returning full force. We eventually made it to a small, nice neighborhood just off the coast. Niall pulled the car in to a somewhat large two story house. We all get out, me staying a way’s away from the two boys, trying to hide anyone from seeing my saddened face. When we reach the front door, Niall pulls out his ring of keys. I had never before noticed how large of a collection it was, but it made sense; he obviously had multiple estates. We went through the whole adventure of finding rooms and everything, and about half an hour later I found myself on my new room’s bed sitting next to Charlie. I had just finished explaining what happened at the other flat and by now tears were streaming down my face. He cradled my in his arms, though it was slightly uncomfortable due to the fact I couldn’t touch his chest without risk of hurting him.   
“Do you know why those men would be breaking into the flat and how they knew Niall’s name?” I sobbed, desperately wanting answers. Charlie seemed hesitant, opening then closing his mouth as if he was going to say something then decided against it. He ended up not saying anything, just shrugging. But, I knew a liar when I saw one. His eyes showed he knew but didn’t want to tell me. But I was persistent and I wasn’t going to give up until I found answers.  
“Charlie? I know you know why. Why aren’t you telling me?” I mumbled, moving out of his arms and sitting up so I was facing him. Tears were still slowly making their way down my face, but at the moment I didn’t care about being weak; all I wanted to know was why the men wanted Niall and if they would come back. I was almost certain they would.  
“I, um, uh…” He trailed off, looking anywhere but my eyes. I dug my nails into my palm, willing myself not to get upset at him.  
“Charlie…” I whimper, desperation filling my voice. His shoulders slumped and a look of defeat crossed his face. He mumbled something I didn’t hear.   
“What?” I sharply asked.  
“Niall’s in a gang.”


	21. Chapter Twenty One

I sit there, shocked. As his words finally begin to set in, I’m not surprised. Niall had always seemed like one of those guys that I had seen hundreds of times while living on the street and I felt slightly stupid for not figuring it out sooner. The disappearing for hours, the guns, the men coming after us; it all made sense.

We sit in a silence for awhile before I tensely nod. I turn to look at Charlie and suddenly an assumption hits me at the pace of a train, making me question myself and the boy sitting next to me.

“Are you in the gang too?” It comes out so fast that it’s nearly incomprehensible, but after a few moments his face grows nervous. He bites his lip, the piercings getting trapped under his teeth. A shiver runs up my spine at the sight of it and I gulp back the feeling rising in my throat, trying to focus on the answer that he is contemplating. I felt strange looking at the way his eyes were lowered and his hair them slightly, the tattoo on his shoulder blade and curling up his neck peeking up from his shirt. My body felt light and airy but heavy and stiff at the same time and I instinctively pushed a strand of blonde hair behind my ear.

“Yes.” He finally breathes out. I wasn’t exactly surprised, but at the same time I couldn’t imagine him being in something like that. Charlie was so kind and caring and the fact that he was in a gang with people like Niall was unnerving. He just seemed so different than that. Again, I just nodded, before leaning back on the bed’s pillows. The tension hung heavy in the room and I truly think this is the first time something had ever been awkward between us. I absentmindedly play with my hands, staring up at the ceiling. Charlie was leaning back on his elbows, lying to the right of me. I couldn’t help but flicker my eyes over to him once in awhile, taking in his features quickly. Almost every time he was staring back.

“Where are we?” I mumble, breaking the silence. The question hit me randomly. I hadn’t taken the time to pay attention to the dozens of signs that littered the roads, so I had no idea where I was now living. Our eyes finally meet for longer than a second, the soft blue color making me twitch slightly. Something about them made me feel… strange in a way that I had never felt before.

“Niall’s old home in Ireland. He lived here before running away and moving to London.” Charlie responds, not making an effort to say anything more. And then again we are left in silence for some time, before Charlie dismisses himself, saying that he had to go make dinner. I almost laughed at the fact that this boy was in a gang and had tattoos and piercings, yet made dinner for us. I was suddenly tired, all the adrenaline I had felt before finally ebbing away, leaving me with exhaustion; both physical and mental. But, I forced myself awake, not wanting to visit back to the torturous pain. I shakily stand up, gripping the wall for support as my vision goes foggy and my head pounds. I knew that this was because of lack of food; I couldn’t remember the last time I had eaten. Once I could move again I began to wander the house. It was two story, my room and everyone else’s’ being on the top floor. There was also a bathroom and an office where a small shelf of books and a computer sat. I went down the stairs, my hand sliding across the banister. I take in the house for a second, looking all around me. It felt more like a home than I had ever been in. Two that I had lived in were flats and the other was too big to feel comfortable; but this was one of the houses I had always been so envious of, as it was always obvious that the people inside were a happy family.

It was like a house my parents and I had lived in.

I pad quietly into the living room, gazing at the soft, worn couches that looked extremely comfortable and the small television that sat across from it on a shelf. I noticed the Disney movies lined up against the wall and I suppressed a smile, remembering watching those when I was younger. Everything about it reminded me a little bit too much of my old home with mum and dad. Feelings of remorse and nostalgia ran through me, pulling the grin off my face. But I didn’t let my eyes fill with tears because as soon as I was about to, a single word was said.

‘Weak.’ And I knew I was. So, I held them back and continued exploring. I finally reached a door that swung open and shut. I lightly push it so that there was a crack big enough for me to see. It was the kitchen. I opened it a little bit wider, nearly jumping when I saw someone inside. I relaxed when the familiar dark hair came into view; Charlie. He had said he was making dinner, so it was no surprise he was in there. I was about to make my appearance when a low mumbling sound stopped me. At first, I had no idea what it was, until I had the ability to get a view of Charlie’s profile as he stepped around the room.

The first thing my eyes were drawn to was his lips. For a brief moment I wasn’t sure if it was just because they were moving. I drew my attention back to them long enough to realize he was singing. It was a quiet murmuring sound. I strained my ears to hear, but his voice was lost under the clatter of kitchen appliances. I took a step forward, trying to listen closer, but, instead, that movement caused the door I had been leaning on to swing open, making me stumble forward slightly from the sudden lack of balance. I straightened up fast enough to see him turn around and look at me wide eyed. I quickly played it off as if I had meant to do that, urgently walking forward to where he was, keeping my eyes on the dish he was preparing.

“What’s for dinner?” I ask, trying to hide the awkwardness in my voice. Charlie seemed to snap out of it, telling me that we were having spaghetti. I smiled weakly, asking if he needed any help. When he shook his head, I went to leave. His voice stopped me. I turned around, my eyes drawn to his by his outburst. The way the kitchen light hit made his skin look even paler, but what caught my attention was his eyes. The whiteness of his skin made them stand out more. The breath left my chest as I tried to stop my staring. I didn’t know why I was acting like this. It wasn’t exactly under my command; my body just did it. I had no explanation for it. I had lived most of my life running away, never getting close to anyone, and hardly having any contact to other people. I didn’t know anything about friends or feelings; it was all new to me.  
“You can stay if you want. It’s nice to have company.” He says, his voice sounded cool and collected. I stupidly nodded, leaning my lower back against the counter so that I felt more comfortable. It went quiet for a little bit as he worked on the food and I tried to stop myself from watching him do so. Short sentences were passed between each other, nothing more than snippets of words. It was about ordinary things. It felt almost awkward in a way. Finally, the food was done. Niall was called down for dinner as we set the table and put everything in containers to be passed around. It was silent, no one speaking. An hour later we were finished and I went up to my room. Hours passed and my eyes continuously started to close without my approval. I forced them open every time, the voice in my head helping me in a way it probably didn’t expect. Its words kept me occupied. That didn’t make them enjoyable, though. But, every thing must come to an end and at around midnight I didn’t have the strength to open my eyes. And there I was again in the forest, surrounded by people who had once loved me. I screamed and cried as each lash ripped against my skin. And, even though I knew it was coming, the blue eyes once again hurt me more than I could have ever imagined being hurt.

I was awoken by the feeling of my body being violently shaken side to side. I opened my eyes, hardly aware of the wetness of my cheeks and the soreness of my throat. A dark, blurry figure is hovering above me. My immediate reaction is to scream and thrash even more, so I do exactly that. Eventually, strong hands push my shoulders down, stopping me from moving, and a soothing voice rings out over my shrieking; Charlie. My eyes adjust enough to the bedside table lamp’s glow so that I could see him clearly. His usually side-swept hair was messy and slightly curly, ruffled as if someone had ran their hands through it the opposite way. He was also shirtless, the winding tattoos in full view; vines, words, things that meant little to others but much to him. His pajama pants were low on his hips, but I forced my gaze back up to his eyes. They were a silver color in the dim light and I felt my puffy, red, tear filled eyes fixate on them. His hands are on either side of my head, one of his knees holding himself up on my bed, the other on the ground. He was directly above me and the feeling I got of his closeness was like something I had never experienced before. His warm breaths were making my hair flutter away from my face. We were so close our noses were centimeters away. As cheesy as it sounds, we stared into each other’s eyes for moments that seemed to last forever but were too short at the same time. We were both heavily breathing, me from crying and him from shaking me. Tears were still streaming down my face when he finally spoke.

“Are you okay?” It was a simple question, but it was too hard to answer. I knew I wasn’t, but I didn’t want to admit it. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to make the flow of salty water stop. I don’t move, not nodding nor shaking my head. I didn’t know how to explain to him how much it hurt. I finally shook my head from side to side, a sob erupting in my body. He quietly whispered to me about how he had woken up to my screaming and sobbing and he had come in my room to find me tangled up in my sheets. As he spoke, each breath in between blew warm air onto my cheeks, his eyes not leaving mine for a moment. He didn’t make a motion to move, still hovering over me as I tell him I had a nightmare. I almost expected him to laugh; I’m a teenage girl crying over nightmares, it’s quite sad. But instead his eyes show concern. And I wanted to hug him for that because that’s all I needed.

He goes to move the hand on the right side of my head, but it slips on the smooth covers and his nose lightly pushes to the side of mine until the tip of it touches my cheek and his eyelashes just barely brushes mine. You know the saying that your heart flutters? And that it sounds stupid and cheesy? But, I swear, in that moment my heart practically shuddered. I can’t breathe for a second. In what feels like years of us pressed together, he finally pushes himself up. He apologizes profusely. He tried to hide the red that paints his cheeks, but his pale skin hardly does anything to help. I just nod, telling him it was fine. A few tears still leaked out of my eyes and I wiped them away, the word weak repeating over and over again. He awkwardly rubs the back of his neck before walking towards the door.

“No!” I cried out before I realized what was happening. He turns to me, confused. I open my mouth and close it again, not sure what to say. There were a million things running through my mind of how I should answer and why I said anything in the first place.

“I don’t want to be alone.” I finally whisper, defeated. A few more tears fall, but I don’t take the time to brush them away. I keep my eyes on my lap, not wanting to face him, feeling the embarrassment course through my veins. Suddenly, I feel the bed sink down next to me and I turn to see him lying next to me, the pale orange light from the lamp making his eyes look darker. I bite my lip nervously. I know I had slept with him in that sense before, but all these feelings that had appeared over the last few days had made it harder to feel like he was my best friend. But the warmth radiating off him practically drew me down like a magnet, making me instantly curl up next to him. At first, I tried to keep my distance, leaving at least six inches between us. He didn’t seem satisfied though, as he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me closer before replacing his hand back to his side. I hold back a small smile as he did it, a giddy feeling rising up in the pit of my stomach. I don’t even try to move, my nose just barely brushing the warm skin of his collarbones. My legs stay stiff and straight; the only way for me to move them is for me to somehow touch them. I knew that I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep, mostly because I wouldn’t let myself. I was pretty much wide awake. Visions of the nightmare start to resurface and that brings on another wave of tears as I think of the looks in the eyes of everyone I cared about. Sobs erupt in my chest, racking my body viciously. Charlie notices me trying to hide it and he instantly pulled me closer again, forcing our legs to entangle and our chest to press together, this time not removing his arm from my waist.

I felt safe. I cried into his bare chest harder than I think I had cried since he had ‘died’. He doesn’t say a word, just drawing shapes into my back through the baggy shirt I was wearing, calming me down. The tears keep coming, wetting his chest and making my head ache, but they didn’t stop. Everything that I had been holding in crashed down on me and I just sobbed it out. Curled against him, I felt like no one would judge me and that I could do anything. Eventually, the crying finally ceased. I knew it was extremely late and that I had woken Charlie up at an insane hour, but he never fell asleep, staying awake so that I would have someone there to comfort me. I finally got comfortable, tightening the intertwinement of our legs, cuddling my face into the space between his collarbones and chest. For a moment, I felt okay. But nothing good could possibly ever last.

Immediately, the voice took its chance. It brutally came after me, using words that made me squirm and squeeze tears out of my eyes. It worsened my already sore head and ruined the peace I had. My hands leave their position from my chest and go up to my head on instinct, gripping it forcefully. They curl their way into my hair, yanking at it. Charlie notices it. He must think I just had a migraine or something, because all he did at first was rub my back again. It didn’t help at all; if anything it made it worse, because it gave the voice more ideas. It said all the same things before moving onto new ones that hurt just as bad. It said that I didn’t deserve Charlie, that I had hurt him so many times, and that he was faking this, anything it could possibly think of. I don’t realize I’m quietly begging it until I’ve done it. This gets Charlie worried. He sits up on one elbow, still as close as he was, our legs still tangled together. I don’t notice he is doing this, too concentrated on pleading, slowly getting louder and louder until I’m quietly screaming and nearly pulled out strands of hair. My breathing got labored and I immediately knew that this would be just like last time, outside the flat. If I didn’t calm it down, I’d pass out. But I was too freaked out by the dream and everything else. I disentangle our legs, pulling mine up close to my chest. I bury my face in my knees, shouting into them. All I needed was for it to stop.

I faintly hear Charlie asking me what was wrong, but I ignored him, only focusing on the pain I was feeling. I don’t even notice him pulling me into his arms again, curling his own body against me so that my calves were sitting above his thighs and our foreheads pressed together gently. He slowly starts to sing and as he does, the pain slowly starts to ebb away. I start to only concentrate on his soft voice, the words leaving my head as I take in the ones he is breathing out. Finally, my peace returns, only a few insults passing through the barriers of his voice. He never stopped, even as the lights of the sky started to peak its way through the curtains. As the room started to brighten, I could make out the inked tattoos that lined his body, the black of it standing out on his pale skin. I absentmindedly traced it with the tips of my fingers along the swoops of letters and images. I saw him grin slightly as I did it, his voice lightly hitching at my soft touch. I smile widely at him, hiding my face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling against it. I had never done this with anyone, yet it felt so natural. We stayed like that, his singing eventually morphing into humming. Our curled up positions never moved and I was comfortable and warm, in the way that anyone could live forever in. Dawn passed and turned into morning, but still neither of us moved. My mind stayed blank for everything except the way his neck felt soft against my forehead and how his head was perched on top of mine, an arm around each other’s waists and legs lightly pressed together. No blankets were on us; our body heat the only thing keeping us warm in the cold Ireland autumn. I didn’t know how to feel and I wasn’t exactly sure when our friendship escalated so far that we felt comfortable sleeping together in the way that included being pressed together with clothes still on. But I didn’t care. He saved me from the voices and the images when I couldn’t do it myself and I secretly hoped he’d always be there to do so.

We’re only broken apart for a moment when the door swings open and then slams closed, the only thing my eye catching is a tuft of blonde hair and dark tattoos.


	22. Chapter Twenty Two

I instantly know who it is and with that recognition came with the confusion of the decision whether to remove myself from Charlie’s arms and go after him, or stay where I am. I’m contemplating this when Charlie makes my decision for me. He nuzzles the top of my head one last time, pressing a light kiss to my forehead before getting out of the bed, turning just as he reaches the door and stares at me with his pale eyes, a small smile tracing his lips, before walking out into the hall, closing the barrier behind him. I sit up, staring blankly ahead for a moment, unsure of what to do now. I finally crawl out of bed, a slight airy feeling on the tips of toes, making me feel almost like I was floating. I run my fingers through my extremely knotted hair, patting down the flying hair. I open the door as soundlessly as I can, tiptoeing out into the hall. I round the corner, instantly hit by yelling that was trying to stay quiet. One voice was exasperated and defensive, the other angry, both coming from the kitchen. I listen closely to the voices slightly muffled by the door that separated us. They were slowly getting raised every second, until it was practically screaming. I could hear every word and it all confused me; nothing made sense. I continued to listen.

“Was she good?”  
“Excuse me?”  
“Was the bitch good? You obviously fucked.”  
“We didn’t fuck. I would never do that to her.”  
“Yeah fucking right. It’s been obvious from day one that you two were fucking the living shit out of each other every second. You think I didn’t notice you sneaking into her room?! I’m not fucking stupid.”  
“Are you serious?! I’m close with her, okay? That’s it! Nothing is going on between us. And why the hell are you getting so worked up over this?”  
“I’m not fucking getting worked up!!”  
“Then why are you raising your voice?”  
“Because you’re a fucking manwhore!”  
“Oh, I’m the manwhore? I’m sorry that I don’t sleep with a hundred different sluts a month.”  
“But you get fucked a hundred times a month by that slut.” I heard a sigh, obviously coming from Charlie, before the kitchen door swings open. My eyes widen and I dive behind the corner, hoping I wouldn’t be seen. Thankfully, Charlie went a different way, probably going to the small backyard I had noticed earlier to cool off. I took this as my chance. I step into the kitchen, opening the door lightly, keeping my face blank. I pretend I’m surprised to see Niall, though it isn’t that hard to because I’m genuinely shocked. His face is red and his teeth are clenched, his hands in fists. His back is towards me and one hand is gripping the counter so tightly that the skin is white. I’m about to leave, but I’m stopped by him turning around. His blue eyes are blazing and dark, obvious anger in them. The dark color of them is what frightens me, but that same little word in my head repeats, not allowing me to back down. When his eyes catch mine, I see that he gets angrier. I don’t look away from the gaze, something inside not letting me break the glare. His jaw tightens even harder, which I hadn’t originally possible.

“So the whore decided to come back to the kitchen where she belongs?” He sneers. I resist the temptation to roll my eyes at his sexist joke, standing there silently. I do, though, allow my obvious distaste shine through. His face morphs into a smirk as he thinks about what he’s going to say next.

“You had fun with your boy-toy last night, didn’t you? I heard you screaming.” I mentally cringe at his words, ashamed that the screams of terror from the nightmare had been so loud. When Niall takes in my calm and not amused exterior, his face hardens for a moment before returning to his cocky façade. He opens his mouth to say something else, but something takes over me. I put my hand up as if to tell someone to stop, glaring straight into his eyes as I say my next words.

“I’m going to politely ask you to shut the fuck up.” I say with a smile. He instantly tenses and his back arches slightly in the way dogs do when they’re angry. Niall menacingly takes a step towards me, his eyes a darker color than I remember. The change of color shade instantly takes me back to when I first, I guess you can say, met him. I go rigid in fear, wishing that I could take the words I just uttered back. The smile falls from my face and I try to stop my eyes from widening in fear. He keeps taking steps forward until we are practically nose to nose, like Charlie and I had been hours ago, except this wasn’t Charlie and I didn’t feel anything in my stomach but fear. I hold back the shaking that wanted to go through my body, forcing myself to not be weak. Quick as a flash, his hand goes out to grip my hair, pulling it back hard, so that my face was nearly parallel with the ceiling. I bite my lip to stop from crying out, my eyes squeezing together for a fraction of a second. He doesn’t remove his hand, twisting my hair around his hand in a way that ensures any movement from me will pull it even harder. His nose is mere millimeters from mine, his hot breathing blowing into my face. It reminded me of Charlie and me even more, but it was also completely different.

“What did you just say?” He growls, practically spitting into my face. I stay silent, knowing that if I say anything, it will anger him. But, apparently, not saying anything has the same effect. His grip on my hair tightens extremely and his remaining hand wraps around my arm, squeezing hard. With a sharp intake of breath, pain fills both my head and my arm. From what I cold see with my leaning head, his eyes were nearly the same navy they had been in the abandoned school, and I knew there was no way I was going to get out of this. All I could hope for was a savior of some kind.

“Speak the fuck up.” He demands, saying it lowly. I still don’t saying anything, unsure of what I could even say without pissing him off. There was ‘I’m sorry’, but he would probably make it backfire on me. I stayed silent, still not knowing what to respond with. And, of course, this makes him even madder. Again, he yanks on my hair and his hand suddenly becomes like a bear trap, gripping my arm like as if he let go, he’d die. His short nails felt like crescent moons being branded into my forearm. He yelled again about me not speaking, and that’s when I finally choked something out.

“Stop.” I whisper, pain etched into my words. The last time I had spoken these words, he had come to his senses, but this time it did nothing but make him even angrier. I didn’t see it come until the second of the impact, the stinging sensation that it left on my cheek bringing me away from the pain in my scalp and arm and onto that. My other hand instinctively goes to my cheek. I feel the throbbing of it on the pads of my fingers. I couldn’t tell if I had let out any noises when I was slapped; the shock had made everything go white and blank for a second. Instantaneously, his hand was back around the same spot it had been on my arm. When I finally was able to look back into his eyes, I saw no regret; only blind anger. This was the first time he had hurt me without apologizing or getting cut off. And, I knew, this wasn’t the last time it was going to happen, no matter how much I hoped it would be.

“Get the hell away from me, you piece of shit.” He spits out, yanking my hair one last time for emphasis, before letting go, roughly pushing me away. I stumble back, a hand still on my cheek, utterly stunned. I numbly walked out of the kitchen, paying no attention to my surroundings, and walked up the stairs and to my room. Fear suddenly breaches over me and I locked the door as fast as I could, ignoring the fact that I knew either one of the boys inhabiting the house could kick it down if they needed to. I crawled onto my bed, curling up under the covers as if they could protect me from everything. I was more blank and empty from shock and slightly terror. Every other time Niall had hurt me, it had been an accident. I had moved on from that, because I accepted that he didn’t originally mean to hurt me that badly. Sure, he had raised his fist or something to hit me, but he had never gone through with it. This was the first time he had ever done something purposely, without any regret or apologizes after. And the look in his eyes; that’s probably what terrified me the most. Somehow, his eyes were the darkest color of blue I had ever seen, and the anger and, almost, predator-like look in the depths of them. He knew what he was doing the whole time; he knew he was hurting me.

I could still feel the thumping of the throb on my cheek. I was oblivious to the rest of the world, just staying in small cocoon of blankets, staring straight ahead emotionlessly. I was practically traumatized from it. I wasn’t exactly sure what about it had horrified me so much; many people went through it every day and I had been slapped before. It wasn’t like it was a beating that left me bruised and bleeding on the floor. I don’t know why, but I had almost thought that Niall had sort of changed in a way. Ever since Charlie’s first supposed death, he seemed softer and more caring; we had those moments where it felt like he was actually… human. The holding, the tears, the gripping onto each other for dear life, it had all happened and I had seen a side of Niall that I never thought was possible. And I kind of missed that Niall, no matter how short of a time he had stayed. But, now every ounce of care I had for him almost seemed to drain away, the aggressive Niall appearing even worse than normal. Right now, I could hardly imagine Niall ever being kind. And the voice in my head was having a field day, making everything I felt about Niall even worse.

‘You deserved it, you know that right? You provoked him. You were a bitch to him and he had every damn right to slap you. You’re an ungrateful little slut who goes off and practically takes his own best friend away from him. He gave you a home, he saved you from the streets, yet you dare to disrespect him like that? You fucking deserved the smack. And you deserve a thousand more until your face is so red and swollen you can barely recognize that that thing had ever been a girl.’ I was so used to believing it, but at the same time, I thought it was wrong. I was stuck in between of what was right and wrong. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut and maybe I deserved it. But, he was calling me those things and hurting me. I wasn’t exactly sure what I should think and that made my head ache even more. The combined hair pulling, mind attacking, and over thinking made my head pound as if someone had taken drum sticks to it.

I was so into my mental war that the yelling and violent knocking outside the door was just a muffled sound that I ignored. I was just absolutely lost inside my own mind and nothing else mattered but my thoughts. As the voice continued to taunt me and my thoughts continued to run wild, it was a constant battle of which one was heard more and everything just seemed to get louder and louder with every new word that popped into my head. I was unaware that I was curled so tight in a ball that my face was pressed into my knees and that I was pulling at my hair and gripping my scalp. Low sobs were heard from me, but they were the kind of sobs that had no tears; just heaving gasps of breath. I couldn’t even feel the sting of the now red mark. Images and thoughts of Niall broke its way through and made my head spin even more, and they were soon joined by the nightmare and the slap and Charlie and the fire and every single little thing that had happened. By now a few tears of pain had slipped through my clenched eyes and I was shaking harder than I thought possible. I knew that unconsciousness would hit soon and that if it didn’t, I’d probably end up going insane.

That is, if I’m not already.

When I finally come back to my surroundings, I realize I’m being lifted into someone’s arms. They pull my hands away from my head, forcing them to curl up against my chest. My head is rested on someone’s shoulder and neck, the rest of my body either leaning against the person’s torso or sitting in their lap. Soothing words were murmured and slow motions were made into my hair and back. The thoughts eventually started to slow, my head gradually stopped hurting, and soon all there was were a few left over tears and tiny trains of thought. I dug my head into the person’s neck, letting their voice calm me. They gently rocked back and forth on my bed, imitating the movements of a boat rocking on a wave.

My hands unclench, but then reach for their shirt, and make my hands fists around the fabric, so that I was holding on tightly to it. I felt that if I didn’t hold on, I’d fall into a dark abyss. When I finally got the strength to lift my head up, who I saw wasn’t what I expected. It was Niall. I was about to scream, but when I blinked Niall was gone and replaced with Charlie. I close my mouth, confused. I close my eyes and open them again, but it was still Charlie. The pale blue eyes were looking at mine, before they avert to my cheek. His eyes widen and one hand leaves the cradle that held me and went to gently brush against it. I flinch back slightly; the great pain even the small touch had administered instinctively made me move away. He pulls his hand away and sets itself back where it had been moments ago.

“Niall?” He whispers sorrowfully. All I do is nod, biting my lip. He sighs deeply, before holding me closer. I let the touch take everything away. And there we are, back where we were last night, curled up around each other. The flutters were still there every time I was somehow reminded that his arms were around me. I wasn’t sure if this is what best friends did, but I honestly didn’t care.

This was the second time he saved me from myself. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that. I suddenly get the urge I had gotten at the hospital multiple times. I gently lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

“Thank you.” I mumble, hoping that he could hear all the emotions that I had put into those two words. I could feel his body momentarily tense up in surprise and confusion.

“For what?” He murmurs curiously, lifting his head up and pressing his chin against the top of my head, so that I’m directly under his jaw, my face lightly nuzzles against his neck.

“Everything.” Is all I whisper. He doesn’t ask anything else and we are again plunged into the gentle silence that we had been in the night before and I couldn’t but feel a déjà vu feeling as our bodies are cuddled together. I couldn’t say that I didn’t enjoy it; it was probably one of the best feelings I had ever had. But, I almost felt like I shouldn’t be doing this; that it was somehow wrong, even though there was nothing bad about it.

And as we lay, I take a peek over his shoulder, realizing that he had gotten in when the door was locked. It was slightly hanging off the hinges and I instantly knew that he somehow broke it open. I tried to hold back the smile I got, but to no avail. He had actually rammed open a door just to get to where I was.

My mind wanders every which way, but not nearly as violently as it had before. I thought of my new life and how I wouldn’t be on the streets anymore. I thought of Charlie and how many times I was sure I had lost him. But, strangely, I mostly thought of Niall. I thought of the way he hit me and nearly killed me. But I also thought of the way he held me in the hospital and outside the ambulances. I thought of how blue his eyes were and the tattoos that graced his arms. I thought of the way how he had gotten Charlie to save me when I was left with the shooter and how he had helped me get away from the men in the flat.

And as hard as I tried to stop, as violently as I told myself that he had hurt me and that he was a horrible person, as quickly as I tried to think of other things, I couldn’t. He reappeared over and over again, and that scared me. The only other people who that had ever happened with were my family and Charlie. And I cared about all of those people.

And even though I finally forced myself to move onto other topics, the last thing that lingered in my mind was the quick flash of joy I had when I had thought I’d seen Niall holding me. The small, fraction of a second feeling of pleasant surprise that I had felt before I went to scream.


	23. Chapter Twenty Three

It had been three days since my last near mental breakdown. I’ve been trying to stay as far away from Niall as I can get, and he being away for his whole gang business made it easier. Charlie had always made sure I was okay, checking the bruise on my face regularly. I always tried to hide my smile whenever he took the time to actually make sure I was fine. From what I can tell, he thinks my screaming and crying was because of the slap from Niall, and I continued to let him think that. No one had ever been told by me about the voice in my head; I’d always passed it off as just random thoughts or my conscious. I’ve only fallen asleep once and that was for a few minutes before I instantly woke up from a pain in my cheek; I’d leaned against it extremely hard and the pain was horrible. I was terribly drowsy and more than once I had nearly fallen down from random dizziness. But, like before, I couldn’t allow myself to fall asleep and go through that; it was too painful. So, I forced my way through the headaches and sleepiness, with the occasional help from the single word that had seemed to be the voice’s favorite word; weak. I had constantly and forcefully tried to push the thoughts of the feelings that I had felt for Niall in that second of imagination. I didn’t know what it meant; why in the world would you feel anything but fear for the person who had physically hurt you? I spoke to no one about it, hoping the feelings would die down and leave my mind, but they hadn’t and I wasn’t exactly sure why.

Early in the morning, present day, I got up and left my room, clutching on the walls for support as to not literally collapse from exhaustion. I was in search of Charlie; he normally came in quite early to say hello or lay with me or just talk, but I hadn’t been visited by the dark haired boy yet. I listened carefully, trying to channel all my attention to this one action, the tiredness make my mind slightly unruly. I was listening for one thing; Niall. I had managed to see him only once in the last few days, that time only being for a fraction of a second because I dived straight into the nearest room; I wasn’t sure if he had seen me or not, but I liked to believe he didn’t. When my exhausted brain finally was assured that it was safe, I started to search. I first went to his room. I told myself that he might have had a late night and was still sleeping; he wasn’t there. I searched the office, which was empty. I looked everywhere, but to no avail. The last room was Niall’s. I wasn’t sure if he was home or not, so all I did was press my ear against the door; silence. Everything was completely empty and I knew I was alone. From all the time I had lived with the two boys, Charlie had never left the house at all; which instantly caused me to panic slightly.

It was probably due to the fact that I’m alone and last time that I had be left home, three men had broken in and nearly killed me; but it was mainly the fact that Charlie wasn’t home and I had no idea why. There were hundreds of reasons why he might not be home, but my thoughts seemed to instantly shoot to the worst possibly scenarios. I walk back into my room, briefly but thoroughly checking everywhere once more. I eventually fall back on my bed, my mind running wild and gruesome images going through my head. The tiredness made even thinking an exhausting job, and the amount that I was doing of it made my head hurt. And then my mind turned to it being my fault. There could be countless reasons of why he would want to get away from me and my mind thought up every single one. My breakdowns were too hard to handle; my seemingly constant crying was aggravating; my clinginess was annoying. The strangest things ran through my mind, but they all seemed logical to me, and with the repetitive chant of ‘your fault’, my mind started to go wild. And I knew what this would lead to, but I did nothing to stop it, mostly because of the fact that I couldn’t. It was going to do whatever it wanted and I could do nothing to cease it. So, I let the mental breakdown begin. The first thing I did was rub my temples, attempting to relieve the pain, which soon led to hair pulling and scalp grabbing. Then, I went into the usually comfortable fetal position, my face pressed hard against my knees. The low begging of ‘stop’ finally started and I knew then that there was no going back. I was going to eventually pass out and there was no one here to save me from it. Tiny whispers soon turned to horrible screaming and rocking back and forth. The harder I tried to hold back the tears, the more difficult it became, and then tears of pain and fear and everything in between spilled out. And so there I was, alone in a house, screaming so loud my throat hurt, crying so hard that I could taste nothing but salt, ripping at my hair so hard I could almost feel strands falling out into my hands, the pain in my head so bad that it throbbed and shrieked, all while a voice in my mind that I had no control over was taunting me.

I was a mess.

I could feel the black on the edges of my vision and I knew that unconsciousness would fall over me soon and that all my pain and exhaustion would be washed away, but I also knew that I would have to experience the dream and even more pain, and I wasn’t sure if I should let myself go into the darkness or try to fight through it. I faintly hear a voice, but it only reaches my ears, my brain not comprehending what was being said. I hardly feel my body being lifted into someone’s arms and them soothingly doing all the things that they could do to possibly help me. I didn’t hear the soft humming and singing in my ear. I couldn’t feel the warmth of the body holding me. But, when I finally did, I relaxed, knowing someone was there taking caring of me like they always did and so I did what I always did too, curling up into their body and letting my breathing slow with theirs and the pounding of their heart soothing the pounding in my head, their shirt soaking in the tears that started to slow. I just felt extremely tired, but I forced myself to stay awake, telling my head that I had just fought my way away from sleep and that if I let myself slip away, it would be letting whatever it was win. And I forcefully pushed my watery eyes open. All I could see was a blurry image, so I momentarily reached one hand up to rub them before opening them again, prepared to see the familiar soft features of Charlie. But, instead, I saw blonde hair and deep blue eyes. I don’t freak out, reassuring myself that it was just my mind messing with me as before, so I blinked. And then blinked again, and then blinked a third time and every single opening led back to him and I knew that it was real.

Niall was the one that stopped the mental breakdown. And I was currently in his arms. My body tensed, a scream wanting to escape my mouth, but suddenly I’m sucked into the warmness of his body and the thumping of his heart, and the feeling is so amazing that I tell myself that it’s okay to stay for just awhile longer. And so I again relax my body, letting myself take advantage of the heat and comfort as much as I can. I wasn’t thinking about the slap, nor the yelling, or the insults; all I was thinking about was the amazing feeling that was coursing through my veins at the thought that I was in Niall’s arms. Niall hadn’t noticed my eyes were open yet, so I just let myself lay there. He slips his head down close to mine in what looked like an attempted kiss on the forehead, but then he saw my eyes were open. When he saw this, he instantly looked, almost, nervous. I wasn’t sure why, but that almost made me smile. But that smile was thrown off my face when I was rolled out of his lap. Niall quickly stood up, looking shaken. I was stunned. I sat up, staring at him in disbelief. His nerves seemed to wipe off his face the second we made eye contact, the natural cocky look replaced on his face, a bit of what looked like disgust in his glare too.

“What the fuck was that?” He spits. I stay silent, my eyes shooting to my hands, a wave of vulnerability coming over me. I instinctively bite my lip, chewing on it as if it would give me the strength to look up. Niall growls in frustration and it take everything in me to not flinch away from the threatening noise. He asks again, this time with more venom in his voice, but stalks away when he realizes I wasn’t going to speak, he huffed and stalked out of the room, taking care to slam the door behind him. I cringe at the loud noise. So, I spend the next who knows how long, sitting dumbfounded on my bed. There was practically no explanation I could come up with on what had happened. When he saw me, something just seemed to click in his mind and disgust took over everything else. And, I don’t know why, but I felt hurt in a way. Maybe it was because of the anger that took over him or the carelessness he put into throwing me off his lap, or maybe it was something more…

I pushed away the thought. I then realize that when I had checked the house only moments before the breakdown, it had been completely barren. But then, Niall had shown up at exactly the right time. There were perfect reasons why he would come home, but something in the pit of my stomach told me that it was something else. I shook it off and tried to think about other things, but to no avail, my mind just being pulled back to Niall every time. I knew that my mind would go as insane with my thoughts as it had not long before, but the things I was thinking were enough to make my already fatigued head even more tired. And, eventually, my body just seemed to shut down and I wasn’t able to do anything as I fell straight into black.

I woke on my own, tears streaming down my face and the blankets around me all over the place. My throat felt raw and I knew that combined with the yelling from earlier, I had been screaming in my sleep. I knew that Niall was home, and that this time he did nothing to help me. And then again the sense of hurt returned and I wasn’t exactly sure why. But, even so, I felt more awake than I had, but the pain I had to get in return for this was enough to put me off from doing it again for as long as I could handle it. And so I busied myself with things that would keep my mind off everything else; I made the bed, I brushed through my hair, I changed into some of the clothes that Charlie had just given me of his, knowing that I’d need them anyway. But, eventually, I could not think of a single thing I could possibly do, so I was resorted to letting the voice back in because I had no distractions to hold it back with.

‘Charlie left because of you. He couldn’t handle your stupid emotional shit, so he left. I don’t blame him. You were just a dumb baby that wanted attention from him, so you whined and cried. And then you dragged Niall into it too after your other boy toy finally left you. You’re just a bloodsucking leech, constantly looking for more things to bother.’ And the thoughts of why Charlie wasn’t home added to everything else I was thinking about and I had never wished more than in that moment that you could just turn off your thoughts with the flip of a switch.

And then, three hours later, when the front door opened, it took every fiber in my being not to shoot out of my room and see who it was. But, I wasn’t disappointed when familiar pale eyes met mine ten minutes later. I kept myself back from running and jumping on him, not because I didn’t want to do it, but because the words ‘clingy’ and ‘weak’ and even ‘leech’ were sent through my mind. I just smiled widely and briefly asked where he had been. He said that he just had to make a trip to somewhere that wasn’t important, which I guess was a code word for gang business because that was the first thing that ran through my mind. But all I did was nod. Minutes later I found myself lying on my back next to him on my bed, confessing that I had gotten worried about where he had gone. He merely laughed quietly, before we were plunged into mindless talking, no real purpose to the conversations. I didn’t tell him about Niall or the breakdown, acting as if I was completely fine when he had left. He didn’t ask and so we just talked. Until he brought up something that I had being hoping he wouldn’t.

“Tell me about your family.” He asks, turning his head to the side to look at me. I battle with myself if I should spill everything or not, and before I know it words are falling out of my mouth at a pace I didn’t know I could speak in.

“When I was little, I was close with my mum, but closer with my dad. We’d spend all our time together, usually eating some type of unhealthy food; that was our thing. He’d take me to the park, he taught me how to ride my bike, he did everything with me and I loved him more than anything. My mum was one of the sweetest women you would ever meet. She loved to bake, so our house was always filled with the smell of cookies. I remember that clearly. She kept scrapbooks of my life and constantly took pictures of us as a family or anything else; that was her main passion. My parents were so in love and they were the perfect couple that everyone dreamed of. My dad called me princess, too. He hardly called me by my name. It was always just princess. And, so, we were the perfect happy family. That is, until my mum lost the baby when I was about five. She cried constantly and hardly talked to any of us. She stopped baking and photography. She turned into a mother that was completely different from the one I knew and loved. I was so young at the time and I didn’t understand what was happening; all I knew was that my mommy ignored me and was sad all the time, and I wanted the old her back. And then she committed suicide.” I cringed at the word, remembering my father finding her in the bathroom and screaming and crying and I had no idea why.

“My father blamed me for the death, because of the note she left behind. He ignored me and whenever he saw me he’d scowl. He hit me multiple times. By then, I had pretty much already lost both of my parents. Eventually, he couldn’t put up with me any longer and I was shipped off to my grandmother’s. I lived there, completely shocked, until the day he drove off a bridge. And that’s all there is to tell.” I finish. There were no tears in my eyes to cry and that probably surprised him, but I had grown so numb to that story that it just didn’t matter to me anymore. It was a story and I hardly remembered any of it. Almost everything I knew was because of my grandmother retelling it to me when I was older. Charlie stayed quiet, not offering an ‘I’m sorry’ or sympathy and I was glad for that; pity was the worst thing that anyone could give. All he did was take my hand and squeezed it; everything and all that I needed. And then we sat in silence, not making a sound, the comfortableness of it being the perfect thing.

Night fell eventually and we still hadn’t spoken. Charlie said something about going to make dinner and then he left, making me realize then that he had been holding on to my hand the entire time. So, I sighed deeply and waited for the call that would lead me to food, which I hardly seemed to have anymore. But, when I had lived on the street, there wasn’t exactly a buffet waiting for me. When Charlie’s voice finally rang throughout the house, I hopped up and scuttled down, this time not checking for Niall. I didn’t really care anymore. When I got down, the scent of beef stew wafted through the kitchen and I served myself. Charlie and I ate, conversations starting now and then. Niall never came down, which I can’t say I was exactly sad about that. I didn’t really want to face him again.

Charlie and I resumed our positions on my bed. We talked quietly every once in awhile, but it was usually silent. Charlie fell asleep a few hours later; I knew this because when I asked him if his parents were still alive, there was no answer. When I turned my head, his eyes were closed and his face relaxed. I smiled, laying back down and staring at the ceiling. Most people would get bored if they did nothing for hours on end, just simply lying down, but I was the type of person who could think and think and think without every getting bored, and so I did just that.

I thought about Charlie, and Niall, and my parents, and the nightmare, and the gang, and everything else and when I looked at the window, the very first dawn lights were shining in. That’s when I finally sat up and walked over to the window and sat down on the window sill, staring at the rising sun with an awe that no one else but an artist could have with such a simple thing. When Charlie’s eyes finally fluttered open and he sat up and stretched, the sun was pretty high in the sky. He looked confused as to where he was for a second, before catching sight of me. He groggily stands up and walks over, mumbling a good morning and sat across from me on the sill.

“Beautiful, isn’t it? The hills and all the green. You don’t get much of that in London.”

And then he muttered something I didn’t catch, but I ignored it, feeling his eyes trained on me. And every once in awhile I would flick my eyes over to him and he would be looking back.


	24. Chapter Twenty Four

When the sun was as high as it could be in the sky, we left our positions on the sill. It was an almost scary simultaneous movement from the window, both of us getting up in the same two seconds. We didn’t say anything about it. I followed behind him mechanically as he walks out of the room and down the hall to his. When we were at the door, he seemed to remember my presence and turned around looking surprised. I felt slightly embarrassed for a reason that was unknown, but I just stared down at my feet as a small laugh vibrated through his body.

“Why were you following me?” I heard the smile in his voice even when I wasn’t looking at him. I stumbled over my words, the noises of ‘um’ and ‘uh’ being the most common thing released from my mouth. He finally put a hand on my shoulder, like a command to stop. That’s when I finally looked up into his eyes with my cheeks tinged pink and all he did was tell me it was fine, and then led me into his room. I followed him awkwardly. He plopped down on his bed, reaching for the remote on the table that worked the somewhat old looking television. I stood in the middle of the room, unsure of what I should do or where I should go. When he looked over at me, he rolled his eyes, before patting the place next to him. I held back a smile as I walked over to him and lightly sat down on the mattress. I sit with my legs crossed, facing the TV. He turned on something I didn’t know the name of, but it must have been fascinating enough that he didn’t move onto something else. 

An hour and two episodes later, I found my side pressed against Charlie’s, my head cushioned by his arm. The show didn’t interest me, so I spent the time thinking. I felt stupid for being so uncomfortable when I was so close to him. I felt stupid for staying in Niall’s hold. I felt stupid for getting so upset over Charlie leaving for a few hours. I felt stupid about being so weak. Overall, I just felt like the most idiotic person in the world. Thirty minutes later, I was still making a list of why I was so dumb. But, a high pitched squeaky laugh came from downstairs, making both of us sit up and look at each other in confusion. It obviously wasn’t Niall; the laugh sounded like a hyena on helium. And no one else lived here. An unspoken decision to go find out who it was ran through us and we both got up from the bed. Neither of us said anything until we had reached the living room, where we were met by a graphic scene. 

A topless Niall and a girl who was fully dressed in fewer clothes than him were practically fucking on the couch. I could hardly hold back my noises of disgust as I immediately turned my head away from the two. The images of his hands all over her in an anything but polite way were imprinted in my head. I heard Charlie clear his throat. When I finally got the stomach to turn around and look at them again, the two were standing in front of the couch. One of Niall’s hands was clearly on her ass and she was latched onto him like a hungry leech. When she first got a look at Charlie, her entire being seemed to automatically go into what she thought was ‘sexy’ mode. Her ass went out as did her fake boobs, and she bit her lip. Her eyes trailed from Charlie’s feet up to his head multiple times, and it took everything inside of me to not vomit at the sight of her unhidden checking out of him. Then, her eyes turned to me. Her face went into one of prissy disgust as she took in my sweatpants and t-shirt, my hair, which was real blonde unlike hers, in a messily done ponytail. 

“Who’s that slut Nially?” I resisted the urge to laugh at how whiny her voice was. I cut off Niall’s answer.

“If I knew your name, I could tell you.” I retort, doing my best polite smile. She rolled her eyes. It took her a few seconds to figure out a comeback. I tapped my foot as I waiting, showing my impatience of her lack of insult. 

“I was talking about you.” This time I didn’t hold back my laugh. My eyes squished shut as chuckles racked my body. I cover my face, bending over. I knew I was overdoing it, but something about her attempt at a good comeback was too comical to not die laughing over. When I finally composed myself, everyone except Charlie was looking at me in a mix of disgust and confusion. Charlie was just there smiling. 

“Ok,” A small chuckle interrupts me before I continue. “That was the shittiest retort I’ve ever heard. If you had any, I’d tell you to sell some of your clothes to buy an education. It’s a shame that you only own clothing suitable to fit a Barbie.” 

“At least I can get a boyfriend.” She says, after another long wait. I scoffed, about to say something back, but cut off by someone else.

“She can. Who the hell do you think I am?” Charlie says. A shocked look passes over all our faces at his words. The whore on Niall, who I still don’t know the name of, looks like something that could be classified as heartbroken. She was speechless. When I looked back over at Niall, I swear, his eyes were darker than before. I instantaneously tried to cover my surprise to make it look more realistic. 

“Yeah right.” The girl says, rolling her eyes for what seemed like the millionth time. Charlie leans down to whisper in my ear, his arm snaking around my waist to pull me closer to him.

“Just go with it. Now giggle and hit my arm like I said something dirty to you.” He murmurs. I don’t hesitate to do as he says. I let my mouth open and then let the façade of shock turn into a giggle, smacking his shoulder gently; I added in hiding my face in his chest. Someone makes a noise of disgust and I wasn’t sure from which of them it was. I pull away from him, using my little knowledge of relationships to help me know what to do. I lean into his frame, his arm still around me, holding my body close to him. When I look back at the two other people in the room, both of them display shock. 

“Whatever. I don’t believe it. He’s too hot for such an ugly skank.” She scoffs. I held back ‘then why are you with Niall’. I turn to look at Charlie, but as soon as I do, something presses hard against my mouth. I instantly know it’s Charlie and I freeze for a second, before melting into the kiss. I move my lips against his, wrapping both arms around his neck instinctively. His hands go to my lower back, pulling me against him. My back arches and my shoulders and head lean back and he follows until his head is nearly vertically above mine. My mind isn’t even processing what is happening. I’m just kissing back, doing everything that I felt like I should. And I feel like we are kissing like this for hours and hours, but when he pulls away and rests his forehead on mine, our noses touching, I knew it had been less than twenty seconds. My breathing is shaky and hard and nothing is going through my mind again. Finally, we go back to our position of his arm around my waist and our sides pressed together. We’re facing them again and the looks on their faces would have made me laugh if I hadn’t been in such a daze.

‘You’re such a whore. You just kissed your best friend because you couldn’t handle having a girl say something to you that not nice. Dumb bitch, when are you going to realize that Charlie hates you?’ And I didn’t even bother to respond that he had kissed me or that what the girl had said was more than not nice. I was just too far away in my thoughts.

“What was that about not believing it?” Charlie grins, looking between each of their stunned faces. Niall’s entire body looks tense and his hands are in fists. But, I hardly see it. I was still in a state of shock. Then, finally, Charlie intertwines our hands and pulls me upstairs and to my room, leaving Niall and the girl standing there. Charlie closes the door behind us and we both sit on my bed. We sit in silence as I stare at my hands.

“Thank you.” I whisper after awhile, not knowing what else to say. 

“For wh-”

“For doing that.” I cut him off, wishing he could just understand how grateful I was for everything he had done for me. From comfort to laughter to protection; I had so much I wanted to thank him for. 

“What you did back there saved me from that bitch continuing and saying anything more that would possibly hurt me in some way.” I couldn’t come up with anything more, unsure of how to express my thankfulness. We are pushed into a somewhat awkward silence as he contemplates my words. All I can think about was how I felt when he kissed me. I didn’t care how girly or stupid it seemed, but it just felt right in a way I can’t explain. 

“You realize that we’re going to have to pretend we’re dating every time we see Niall or the girl, right?” I mumble. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t really think about that.” He apologizes. I finally look up at him, confusion swimming through my body at his apology. 

“Why are you sorry?”

“I shouldn’t have done that; it’s going to force you to fake date me and act like you love me and all of that.” He murmurs.

“I don’t need to act. I already do love you.” The words spill out of my mouth without me thinking. 

“I mean, you’re my best friend, of course I love you.” I stumble to save myself from fucking everything up, and I guess it works because he just smiles and nods.

“I love you, too.” He simply says. I’m not sure if I’m surprised or happy or both, but the words that had just come out of his mouth filled me with a feeling that I couldn’t describe. So, I smiled and that was that. We eventually made it back to the familiar side by side position on the bed like we always seemed to do, and we talked and we went silent and we smiled and we laughed and we felt awkward. The routine was starting to form and I didn’t mind at all because I enjoyed every minute of it. By the evening, the high pitched noises of actions I didn’t want to know about stopped. That’s when Charlie decided it would be a good idea to make dinner. We both went downstairs, standing so close together that our shoulder brushed with every step. Halfway there, I heard footsteps coming from where the living room was located. I instinctively grabbed Charlie’s hands and tangled our fingers together. He tenses for a fraction of a second before relaxing and gripping my fingers in his much larger ones. He swings our arms back and forth as we walked, and we both tried to be nonchalant about holding hands. We were just outside of the kitchen door when Niall emerged from it. He took one look at us and his lip curled up in disgust at our display of ‘affection’. All I do is send a big grin at him, knowing that it would piss him off further. 

His face turns into what could be called a snarl as he looks at me, before walking right into where our hands were, breaking apart the attached limbs. He made sure to hit both our shoulders as he passed and I had to stop myself from saying something I would regret. We ignored it, curling our fingers together once again as soon as we were able to. Charlie and I walked right into the kitchen without a single glance back at him. When we got inside and were sure that we were out of sight, we untangled our hands, letting them fall back to our sides. Charlie starts to pull out random ingredients until I put them together and realize he was making steak and mashed potatoes. I felt my stomach gurgle at the thought of what I knew would be a delicious dinner. I wasn’t surprised; I hadn’t eaten in over a day. I continuously asked him if he needed help, denying it every time, responding that he liked to work alone. I finally gave up and told him I would be going upstairs for a little bit. He nodded, too concentrated on adding spices and such to the food to really care. I hopped up the steps until I reached the hallway that held all of the rooms. I start when I see one door open very suddenly, not expecting it to fly open so close to where I was. Out walked Niall and when he saw me he scoffed and rolled his eyes, not unlike how his ‘girlfriend’ had not long before. 

“So the slut finally detached from her boyfriend?” He growls, practically spitting as he says each word with venom that I couldn’t understand. I knew that I should keep my mouth shut and not taunt him, but I couldn’t help it. 

“Yeah, where did that girl go?” I smile, pretending to be polite like I had earlier. It always seemed to piss someone off when I did it, and that’s all I really wanted at the moment; a reaction. His face hardens.

“I was talking about you, idiot.” He spit, trying to act as if I was so dumb or something, when in reality his words did nothing to help him in the argument at all. 

“Stealing her comebacks as well? You two must be really close.” I retort. I turn around and begin to walk to my door, hoping that he would just drop it and that I would be in peace with my thoughts, but he obviously wanted to finish the conversation. He dug his fingers into my shoulder and forcefully whipped my around so that I was facing him again. He was fuming.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me.” 

“Watch me.” I hiss, trying to get away. His grip remains strong and all my attempts at escaping did was piss him off even more and making him dig his fingers into the skin even harder. I refrain myself from flinching, not wanting him to get any of the satisfaction that he wanted. 

“You’re such an ungrateful bitch. I gave you a home. Isn’t that enough? You should fucking respect me.” He raises his voice a few notches with every word until he’s yelling. 

“I didn’t fucking ask for you to take me in. I didn’t want that. I’d rather be back on the streets than be in a five mile radius from you. If it weren’t for Charlie, I would have been gone by now. I don’t want to stay here if there’s an asshole who finds so much joy in screaming at me here too.” I screech, even surprising myself with the volume of it. 

“Fine. Then leave.” I don’t realize he had taken steps towards me until our chests were practically touching. Normally I would have felt awkward or blushed, but at the moment all I felt was anger. I knew he was expecting me to beg him to let me stay or something of that nature, so the shocked face he gave me after my next words was no surprise.

“Happily.” Is all I say before I rip my shoulder out of his hand and stalk down the stairs. I ignore the confused look on Charlie’s face as he steps out of the kitchen to see what the yelling was about; I needed to stay strong and if I saw him and saw the look on his face when he realized what I was going to do, I’d break right then and there.

So I didn’t hesitate to walk right out of the front door, slamming it behind me and leaving the only things I cared about far behind me.


	25. Chapter Twenty Five

I run. And I don’t turn around once. I know if I do that images of Charlie will just take over my mind and I’ll go back. So, I flee. I sprint down sidewalks and inside alleyways and across streets without looking out for cars because at the moment, I don’t care. I just needed to get out and away. I was lost, no doubt about that. I had never been to Ireland before. It was all just green to me. The street signs meant nothing; neither did the countless stereotypical pubs. I just went wherever my feet took me, ignoring the ripping pain in my chest from lack of oxygen intake or the aching of my tired feet. I run and every single thing I’ve ever said or done or thought runs through my mind and I vigorously scrub the tears from my face as I run, wishing I was stronger and that the flow would just stop. I didn’t see the strange looks; all I saw was the confusion on Charlie’s face as I ran past him. I see the door slamming behind me and Niall screaming at me. But, I don’t hear shouts to stop or pleads to slow down; because they weren’t there. No one came after me and I don’t know if I’m hurt or thankful about that.

I could only stop when I couldn’t go any farther. I stood on the edge of a rocky coast, hundreds of feet of a straight drop into the freezing water below me, nothing but a rope fence keeping me back. Huge, pointing rocks littered the pounding water, white bubbles springing up every time another wave hit it. I stand as close to the rope as I can without literally taking a step off the cliff, my arms by my side, my fists clenched. I’m still, letting the freezing mist coat me with thin layers of water. Thick winds blew, blowing my hair in every direction, slapping my face and getting inside my mouth. I stare ahead, looking at the rushing salt water, the thick fog laid just above it. 

And I just stand there. I knew that I looked ridiculous and stupid and that I should move in some way, but I couldn’t bring myself to do so. I just wanted to stand there and will myself not to cry or scream. And though I don’t make a sound, waves of tears synchronize with those of the water; the saltiness of the drops in my mouth mixing with the same flavor of the spray in the air. My thoughts run to the strangest things and I let them, just wanting to forget everything that was happening at the moment. I thought about how similar the ocean was with crying and how it would have been if I was still in school and how different my life would be if my parents had never died. I wondered about the price of gas and the slaughter of defenseless animals and what tattoo I would get if I had the chance. 

But, of course, I couldn’t hide from it all for long, and the thoughts of tattoos brought me back to Charlie and I unwillingly thought about the one that traced his torso and the small one just below his neck on his back. I thought about his pierced lips and how the cold metal had felt brushing against my mouth. I curled my toes in as I thought about all the nights he had stayed with me and how every single time he did I had to fight back the urge to run my fingers lightly over the ink because it all fascinated me in a strange way. I thought about how when I first saw him, I was sure he was just an asshole friend, and how I had no idea how much he would mean to me. I imagined the blue of his eyes that were lighter than any blue I had seen and the crinkle of his eyes when he laughed over the dumbest things I said. His unexplainable body heat that had warmed me every time I touched him entered my mind and that made me think about all the times we had laid together and just talked about anything that came to mind. And I wanted nothing more but to be back in one of those memories again. 

My head falls back and my arms go out as if I was about to take flight, letting out a noise that was a mix of a scream and a groan with a bit of sobbing thrown in. It was drowned out by the crashing of the water, but that didn’t stop me from silencing myself. I crouch down, my cloth covered knees sinking into the wet, gravelly mud, bending my torso over so that my face was pressed against my thighs. My hands went to grip my hair as I just cried. It was a muffled sound that I wasn’t proud of, but all I needed was to just cry and think about every single thing I had ever done wrong in my life and cry about that and remember everything that had ever hurt me and cry about that too. 

‘Look at you. Running away from your problems like usual. Crying like the dumb weakling you are. Sobbing about something you did to yourself. I’m not surprised. You have always been and will always be so fucking frail. You can’t handle anything without shedding tears like your parents just died. Oh, that’s right, they did. And whose fault is that? Yours. You always ruin everything. You ruined your parents, your chance at a home, your life, as well as everyone you have ever known. You just can’t fucking handle your damn self. You just have to go out and fuck everything up because that’s all you can do.’ As soon as it speaks about my parents, I start to sob even harder, my entire body moving as if with the beat of my cries. And just as I think it couldn’t get any worse, a few frigid drops splash onto my neck, crawling to my back and trailing down my spine. More and more drops start to find their way onto my bare skin. Tears are supposed to be warm, but the second they left my eyes they grew cold with the freezing air. The temperature dropped lower and so did my heart because I knew I had no where to hide from this weather, or anything exactly. And so I cried about that too.

When I finally stand up, it’s now a downpour and I can hardly see a few feet in front of me. The dark storm clouds blocked out all the light, so that didn’t help with the vision. I was shaking, clad in only a t-shirt and sweatpants. I had Converse on, but they were practically falling off my feet, the rips that littered the sides letting water in easily. The winds were no help, only pushing the precipitation harder. I saw the blurred bodies of many people running across the street, holding newspapers or bags over their heads to keep away the rain. They were running to their homes, something I realized I no longer had. I stood there, allowing the water to run down my body simply because I didn’t care. 

I started to walk, my first step ending up with me nearly sliding off the side of the coast because of the mud. I steadied myself, a burst of adrenaline striking my body at the near death. And then it was forgotten as every other thought covered it up. I take another step, this one more careful. And then another and another, until I’m back onto solid ground where slipping is less of a worry. If the pace of my walking was the same as that of my thoughts, I could have been on the other side of Ireland by now. But, instead, I walked with a slow uncertainty; no purpose in my steps. But, I kept going, my head not rising from glancing at my feet; I knew I wouldn’t be able to see if I looked up anyway. The rain only seemed to get harder, but unlike it my tears had lessened and that feeling of numb was back. The only thing that was keeping me from losing myself outside of reality was the chilled water falling from the deep grey clouds. 

I followed the coastline, walking on the very edge of the road. My arms were speckled with goose bumps and I could hardly feel my hands, though they were stuffed under my armpits in an attempt to keep them warm. My hair was plastered to my head and neck, the tangles of it slowly being unraveled by the falling water until it hung straight down my back. Every now and then, I nearly trip over an unseen rock or dip and for that second, I thought of nothing else but the surprise of falling. And that was almost like a holiday. But, then I’m sent back to the lovely swirl of never-ending questions and memories and thoughts. 

Night eventually began to fall, but you could hardly tell because it was darker than most days were thanks to the clouds. I walked until I was stopped by a gate that kept anyone from the rest of the dangerous cliffs, so I turned and started to walk through the towns. Many of the shops had welcoming lights that shone brightly in the darkness, and every time someone opened the door to walk in or out while I was passing, I was greeted with a burst of warmth. I struggled against my urge to go inside; if I did, the stares and whispers of why I was so soaked or why I was only wearing a t-shirt or anything else people could come up with to judge me on. So, I kept walking. Eventually, I found myself walking down the middle of a nearly abandoned road. It was almost a country road, the few houses spread out far from each other, long spreads of grasses covering every other inch. As used to walking alone at night on the streets as I was, this was a new and unfamiliar place, which almost frightened me. I didn’t know the places where drug dealers stayed or the best place to get cheap food was. I didn’t know anything. And, I couldn’t see anything either, so my current placement definitely brought some paranoia with it. 

Almost all of the houses I passed had their lights on or smoke coming out of the brick chimneys and the envy I felt of them is one I had never felt before. After knowing the feeling of having a home for such a long time, I had grown somewhat used to it. Now I had ripped myself away from it and I have to watch it from the outside again. 

The rain continued for the many hours I had been walking, and though every frozen muscle screamed out to stop, I trudged on, not seeing a reason to stop; then again, there wasn’t a reason to continue. But, if I didn’t move, I wouldn’t go anywhere; and maybe if I keep going, I’ll find a way to survive. So, I keep on walking, my shoulders hunched and my feet dragging. The only sounds that can be heard are the splattering of the water hitting everything. I wasn’t crying anymore. I was emotionless and numb. As the night drew on, lights went off. Darkness consumed the world and I couldn’t see where I was going; not that I could before. I started to wonder if Charlie was looking for me or what he was doing at this moment.

‘He’s probably relieved. Finally, the stupid clingy girl was gone. Charlie is most likely hugging Niall, thankful that he got you to leave.’ But, even those words didn’t bring out any emotion; anything that could have been felt at that moment wasn’t there; nothing was.   
The rain only seems to come down harder. I push on, my arms crossed over my chest and my teeth clacking together with an aggravating noise. Though I tried to stop it, the instinctive chattering continued, shaking my entire head with it. I’m too busy thinking about my teeth and how cold I was, I didn’t notice the way the ground suddenly got smoother. In an instant I fall hard, doing probably the worst thing I could do; I let my bare elbows catch me. When they scrape against the hard gravel, the skin is instantly torn. The pain is a stinging sensation that the rain and cold only made worse. The blood that started to drip from the wounds was quickly washed away, as was the mud that had covered my clothes from the fall.

I honestly did not want to get up. Though my elbows hurt, everything else that had been in pain from walking so much was beginning to be soothed by the lack of movement from me. I stayed where I was just for a little while, literally just lying in the mud. But, I finally force myself to stand up and continue. The pain from my elbow was quickly numbed by the freezing cold, almost as if I had placed an ice pack to it. 

My walking continued for another hour. The rain was still going and I still couldn’t see a thing. If I had, I would have probably seen it coming. One second I’m walking quietly with no purpose in life, the next huge meaty hands are grabbing my body. I fight it off, twisting and turning in every possible way. They have a strong hold on me, but I was slippery and wet, which helped.

“Fucking stop you stupid piece of shit.” A deep voice hisses. It’s definitely not a voice I had heard before and I knew right then that I wasn’t exactly being saved by my best friend. I continue to writhe around, ignoring the punches aimed at me by the group of me. I twisted my torso one way and then the other in a split second, using everything that I could to my advantage. The small size helped, but theses men were extremely strong and they wouldn’t give up. They were walking with me as I tried to get out of their grip. It felt like one guy had one limb each; two for my legs and two for my arms. I was being held in the way that friends would use to swing each other back and forth, but this wasn’t a game and these weren’t my friends.

I could just make out the sound of an engine when I remembered that I had vocal cords. I scream as loudly as I can for a fraction of a second before a huge, cigarette-smelling hand clamps over my mouth, growling at me to shut the fuck up. I use his bad choice of placement to my advantage, though.

I bite down hard on the palm of his hand. He grunts out in pain, removing his hand from my mouth. The man was in a somewhat surprised state, so I used it to flip myself with one final burst of speed and energy. I manage to actually twist myself out of their iron grips. I turn around and break out running, desperately wanting to get away and just be safe again. 

Unfortunately, the mix of baggy, soaked sweatpants and exhaustion isn’t a good one. My running is extremely slow and I am hardly moving at all. But, I didn’t think about that. All I was thinking about was that I was free and I had a chance to get away. I could actually possibly make it and if I did, I would be safe just for a little while. 

But hope can only last for so long before it’s torn down by reality. The fast men quickly catch up with me, grabbing my body easily once again. Just from the running, my body was tired. I knew I couldn’t get out of their grasp again, but I tried anyway, hoping desperately for some kind of miracle that would save me from whatever was about to happen to me if I went with these guys. 

So, again, I twisted and yanked my body around. But, these men now knew what I was going to try to do. They handled it unlike they had before, shoving some sort of cloth into my mouth so that I couldn’t scream without choking on it. I was stuck and there was no way I was going to get out of this. 

They walked me back the short distance to where the car was, marching as if they were soldiers. Terrified tears fell down my face with the rain. I wasn’t sure how the men had found me when you literally couldn’t see a few feet in front of you. But, that wasn’t exactly the most important thing on my mind at the moment. All I knew was that these unfamiliar men that I couldn’t get a glimpse of were taking me into a car, where I wouldn’t be able to get out.

It wasn’t that hard to imagine what was going to happen next.

However hard I tried to get out of their grasps once again, we reached the car. One man shouted to one that I couldn’t see. Another blurred figure made their way towards us, holding something in his hand. The cloth in my mouth was removed, replaced by another before I could make a noise. As soon as the man had gotten near us, I had been able to get a smell of what was coating the cloth.

I held my breath, knowing that if I breathed any of it in, I would be gone in an instant. No one noticed my struggle to not breathe until they realized I should have passed out by now. 

I tried to spit it out, or twist in someway so that the cloth would fall out of my mouth. I succeeded, and the rag fell to the muddied floor. Someone cursed and I was slapped. I took a deep gulp of breath, refilling my lungs with fresh air. The entire time everything had been going on, the rain had been crashing down on us. I couldn’t see what was happening anymore, too many types of water getting into my eyes.

Then, before I could stop it, the chemical filled cloth was pressed against my face again. I held my breath again, but the men knew it was coming. One of them raised their arm and slammed their fist into my stomach. I instinctively drew in a breath, and all of the chemicals went straight into my mouth. Black instantly filled the corners of my vision. I tried to hold on, but I was much too drugged to be able to. 

And then, I blacked out.


	26. Chapter Twenty Six

As I fell into an unconscious state, I was out for a short period of time. I have no recollection of what happened, only that at some point, something changed. I was suddenly aware of what was going on; I knew I was passed out, I knew that I had been kidnapped, I knew it all. It was almost as if I was awake, but my eyes were sewn shut. I try to open my eyes, but the normal, instinctive movement of muscles to release the pressure did not do what it usually did. It was like I couldn’t even attempt to open it; even though my mind was chanting for it to open, they practically had a mind of their own and they stayed closed. I tried to move my body after that, but I couldn’t even make my finger shift in a miniscule twitch, let alone lift an arm or leg. So, I sat there in a darkness I couldn’t get out of. I almost started to panic; the situation I was in now was much too similar to the first ever nightmare for my liking. But, in that event, I had been able to move. I was unwillingly stationary now. 

Then, my body seemed to be thrown into an abyss, flashes of colors and shapes moving behind my eyelids like someone was fast forwarding a television show. Red, white, circles, green, people, purple, magenta, clouds, anything you could possibly think about is what I could see blurry outlines of. And then it stops and I’m standing in a scene that was like that of a movie, everything a little too bright and defined. I was in a room with pink walls and Disney princess posters and a small rose-colored bed. I felt safe while in it and everything seemed so familiar. Something clicked inside me and that’s when I realized this was my four year old self’s room. I could see the entire room as if I was looking at a 3D diagram of the entire thing; all four sides were visible and I could see everything as if it was a picture. The entire thing seemed to be more and more like a movie. 

At that moment a small girl ran inside in the way only young girls can, her bright blonde ringlets bouncing on her back. She was giggling and screaming in ecstasy at the same time, and just by the sound of her laughter, I knew what was about to happen. As soon as she flew up onto her bed, a man came running in, his body in a half-crouch, his hands in front of him in a mock-monster pose. He made a growling noise, holding back the grin that was fighting its way onto his face. The girl squealed and the two continued chasing each other, father and daughter playing with each other. If I had any control of my body, I would have been fighting back tears at the sight of my father and me.

The scene switches and now I’m standing in a park, the warm air making it clear summer was upon us. Birds tweeted and squirrels chirped, the air full of the scents of freshly mown grass and melting ice cream. The same curly-haired girl came skipping through, a man and a woman each being dragged forward by their determined daughter. One small hand gripped on each larger one, the girl encouraged her parents to move faster to reach her destination sooner. They passed the abandoned school, its hole-filled, rusted gates only providing a weak barrier between the outside world, Worn Brooke Elementary having been closed six years prior. None of the three even glanced at it, all of them too concentrated on their family. When they finally reached the playground, the girl shot off to play with the few other kids. Only minutes later, she got bored of that and hopped onto the nearest swing. She shrieked at her father to push her on the swing, so he stood up, planting a small kiss on his wife’s cheek, chuckling as he walked to his little princess.

Now the girl is slightly older, her cheeks holding slightly less chubbiness and her teeth slowly starting to fall out. Her hair was no longer as tightly curled as it had been before, the coils giving away to waves. She was standing behind a door, her head peaking out slightly in the way children do when they are too curious to leave, but too frightened to venture out. She saw her father’s familiar hunched back, his body rocking back and forth. There was a shine to the floor, almost as if someone had spilled oil over it. She jumped as her daddy screamed. When he stood up and punched his hand through the wall, she flew back behind the door, hiding her body completely. She was terrified. She continued to hear her father’s sobs and yells, and it wasn’t until he had quieted that she peeked back around the corner. He was now facing her, his back against the wall, a ripped and stained piece of paper in his hand. There was a dark liquid running down one hand. Every other second his mouth emitted a sob. He slowly looked up from the paper, smudged of a dark color on his face and his tears mixed with it, making the water falling from his eyes look like black drops of rain. His blood-shot eyes reached hers and for a second she stared into the gaze of her daddy, before he stood up and surged towards her. She turned around and ran as fast as her six years old legs could carry her, this time her screams not laced with laughter. 

The memories started going by faster, getting shorter each time. 

The little girl was curled in a corner, her scared eyes wide. A staggering figure towered over her. Tears of fright fell down her face as she screamed for him to stop, but they are cut off as the sound of skin on skin radiated through the house. There was a cry of pain and the girl held onto her face.

The next image was of a frail body being pushed onto the sidewalk. She tried to get back inside, but the car’s tires just screeched away, leaving her shouting and crying. An old woman comes hobbling out of her house and gasps when she sees her granddaughter bruised and sobbing outside of her home. She carries her inside, shutting the door behind her. 

Now the girl was inside of her grandmother’s house. She was hiding behind the wall, looking over slightly, just like she had been while watching her father. Her grandmother had just opened the door and looked shocked at the sight of a police officer. He had a grim look on his face as he spoke. The confusion was clear on the little girl’s face. A hand suddenly went up to her grandma’s mouth as the older woman let out a choked gasp. 

It was the day of the funeral and the entire small group of people was wearing black. Her grandmother was crying. She was silent and emotionless, unsure of what to think or what to do. There was a mixture of relief and mourning on her face.

Her grandmother was strapped into a hospital bed while holding the girl’s hand. Tubes and machines were everywhere. The grip loosened all of a sudden and a wild beeping filled the room while the girl backed away in horror. 

Everyone was in black again and this time the girl was crying. She sobbed as they lowered her grandmother into the ground. 

She was in the dark attic of her first foster home, held up in her pitiful excuse for a room.

The girl, now a young teenager, was sneaking down the side of a house in the middle of the night.

She was hiding in a dank alleyway as the police ran by with their screaming sirens.

She was huddled under trash bags, tears falling down her sickly looking face.

She was at a playground with a blonde boy.

She was bleeding all over the floor. 

She was running with a dark haired boy.

She was screaming and shaking as the dark haired boy held her. 

She was slapped by the blonde boy.

She and the dark haired boy were kissing.

She was shouting at the blonde boy.

She ran out of the door of a house. 

She sprinted through the rainy streets.

She was kidnapped.

And in what could have been a fraction of a second or hours, my life literally flashed before my eyes. I didn’t have the chance to even start to think about what had just happened when I heard voices. I knew this meant I was at least semi-conscious. I could feel the sensation of duct tape on my mouth and rope around my hands and legs. But when I tried to open my eyes, there seemed to be a million pound weight lying on top of them, making it close to impossible to get my vision back. I tried this with every part of my body again, testing out the possibility of moving, but it was just as before; I was stationary against my mind’s will. So, instead, I put all my concentration into listening to the voices, hoping that in some way the words would help me escape or at least give me knowledge on what was happening. I caught ‘bitch’ and ‘torture’, which didn’t exactly help my state of fear. The road hit a bump and my body flew out of the seat I had been positioned on. I hit the floor of the car with a thump. My head smacked hard against something metal and a sharp object was poking my hip. Mutters of curse words were heard. Though they seemed aggravated by my falling, they didn’t stop to fix me. We kept going, the ground turning to a gravelly substance, making the car move a lot more, which only worsened the pain in my side and skull. Eventually, we seemed to make it onto softer ground. I had been, I guess you can say, awake for at least an hour. I was in the same painful position in my space in the car; which I had figured out was the trunk. My mind was racing and my thoughts were getting tangled up. I willed myself to slow them down. If they got too out of control… well, bad things would happen. And the fact that I can’t move would probably make the process even worse. 

I did all the common things that you’ve been told helps you calm down; deep breaths, clearing your mind, relaxing your body. Nothing worked. I could literally feel my entire being tensing up and getting prepared for what was going to follow. The pounding started in my head and I wanted to grip it more than anything, but all my hand could manage was a slight twitch in the pointer finger. The drowsiness that I had felt because of the drugs I was under was completely gone now and I could think completely clearly. On top of all of this, the voice was back, mumbling things about how I should have stayed. The ragged breaths began, and as much as I wanted to pretend that it would stop, I knew it wouldn’t.

So, I went into full breakdown mode. Tears fell, gasps for breath were taken, shaking started; the whole nine yards. But this time I couldn’t rock back and forth or pull my hair or scream for it to stop. I was confined and all I could do was just bare it. The pain was probably five times worse than usual. My breathing and sobs masked all of the men’s sounds of confusion and anger at what was going on, as did the stopping of the car. I didn’t even realize what was happening until a gust of freezing cold wind and rain soothed the hot tears on my cheeks.

“What the fuck?” I faintly heard. A body climbed in and immediately I was slapped in the face. The man probably expected that to make me stop, but all it did was cause my head to throb uncontrollably. With the added pain came more tears. I was hit, kicked, and they even lifted my body out into the rain to shock me with the cold. Of course, they didn’t hold me and calm me down, so none of what they did helped. They eventually gave up and threw me back into the back of the car, hopping back in and starting the engine again. By this point, all of the violence they put me through made the pain so much worse than I ever thought possible. For some reason, though, I didn’t feel the sensation of blacking out. I was still as wide awake as a temporarily paralyzed person could be; I knew that I shouldn’t be. I should have been out awhile back. Instead, I was lying there enduring one of the worst bouts of pain I ever had. 

You know that feeling of wanting to squirm around to alleviate a discomfort? Well, that sensation filled every single inch of my body intensely. I was slowly gaining consciousness, I knew that, but the most moving I could do was just barely moving my fingers. It would take ages for all feeling to come back, and if I didn’t pass out until them, I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. At all other times when I had experienced these breakdowns, fainting was the worst thing that could happen; now it was all that I wanted. I desperately wished for that feeling of falling into blackness for awhile. Maybe I wasn’t going unconscious because I already pretty much was; maybe it was just because my own body wanted to torture me. I didn’t know, but I didn’t really care either at the moment either. All I knew was that I was practically dying from the inside. 

This went on for hours; at least it felt like it. The pain was nonstop, and with every jerk of the car it worsened. My head was pounding, my body felt like it was on fire, and every single inch ached. 

Finally, the car stopped. I didn’t even pause to think about why; I just felt slightly relieved at the fact there wouldn’t be anymore sharp turns or stops in the next few minutes. The back door was thrown open and my body was heaved up by someone. They roughly threw me over their shoulder. If my mouth hadn’t been taped shut, I would’ve let out a groan of pain. The man holding me started walking and I heard the crunches of everyone else following. With each step, my body bounced against his back, and it felt like we were in the car all over again. At some point, the guy tripped, nearly dropping me, and giving my body one hell of a harsh jerk. My head screamed out in pain at it, but my mouth was silent. When he went to open a door, he turned around to ask someone for the keys or something, and my head hit the metal hard. More tears streamed down my face at the extreme pain; he didn’t even seem to notice it. 

When we were finished walking up flights of stairs and whatever else we had to trek across that made my body hurt more, the man just literally dropped me onto cold cement. He told someone to watch me while he got the ‘supplies’. I wanted to shake and scream and beg for help, but I just lay in a crying heap on the floor. When he returned, I was anything but gently shoved into a chair. Cold metal encircled my ankles and arms, and I knew that I had just been chained to the seat. 

“Hi there, pretty girl. We’re going to have some fun.” A deep voice hissed, giving me the worst kind of goose bumps you can get. The feeling of wanting to squirm away returned, but just as before, I couldn’t do anything about it. Rough fingers traced my bare arms and face, a disgusting hand running up my thigh. Words I tuned out as best as I could were whispered into my ear creepily. 

“Now, why don’t you wake up?” He finished off the sentence with a hard slap to my cheek. When I didn’t do anything, he did it again, this time more harshly. I tried to push my eyelids open, but they wouldn’t. I wanted to scream at them to just lift up and make him stop, but they didn’t listen to me.

Many slaps later, I finally got the strength to flutter my now bruising eyes open and face my captor. The first thing I saw was a table filled with sharp objects of unimaginable torture.

“And the princess finally wakes up. Now we can begin.”


	27. Chapter Twenty Seven

He advances towards me, his hands behind his back. There was something in them, I just knew it, and as I thought of the possibilities, my entire body goes stiff and my breathing gets heavier with fear. I try to suck it up and be serious and calm, but as the man takes each prolonged step, it grew harder and harder. In no time at all, my animalistic instincts take over and I’m thrashing and screaming, my eyes wide and wild in pure fear. The chains around my wrists and ankles dug deep into my skin, causing me to cry out even more. The bruises from being thrown around were stinging painfully. My mind was in overload, panic coursing through my entire body until all I could see was darkness; my eyes were closed so tightly it hurt.

The man’s hand tightly grasped my chin, pushing his dirty fingernails into my face, forcing my head to look up at him. I’m trying to gasp for air because I couldn’t remember if I had even taken a breath in the last minute, but my mouth is pushed shut, so all I can do is breathe wildly through my noise like a frantic horse.

“Stop it.” He growls, spitting in my face. I instantly recoil and try to wipe of the saliva, but all that achieves is grinding the hard metal against my raw skin. He releases my face and I heave in the air, hunching over so that he couldn’t see the terrified look that probably traces my features solidly. My hair is jerked back so suddenly, I practically squeal. My neck is arched back so that my head is almost upside down. My eyes roll back into my head with the sudden force and it takes a second for me to get my bearings. When I do, I see the man, red faced, a vein bulging on his neck, and his lips curled in a murderous way.

“Don’t be fucking disrespectful. Look at me.” As he speaks, he makes sure to make his mouth move in a way that sends drops of his spit all over my blood filled head. He jerks my hair one more painful time before letting go, my neck snapping back like a yo-yo. He circles around my chair, my dizzy eyes trying to follow him. The tools he had been holding had crashed to the floor at some point, and the few things I caught a glimpse of immediately made me look away. I force my vision on my captor and glare at him with all the anger and fear that I feel, but he does little more than blink at my stare, grinning mockingly. He takes a heavy step towards the metal chair where I’m imprisoned; making sure the hard sole of his shoe creates a sharp noise. I unwillingly flinch at the sound.

“We don’t know each other very well, do we? I’d start with names, but I don’t give my whores anything to call me by. They’re too busy screaming.” He whispers. I let no emotions alter my expression, keeping my blank eyes on him.

“And I don’t even need to ask you your name. I already know.” He hisses, padding around my entrapment again. His filthy fingers trace my bare arm, but that isn’t what makes me stiff. No one knows my name. No one has ever cared enough. Except one. I reassure myself that he is lying, trying to torture me and throw me off guard.

“Charlotte, is it?” He disgustingly murmurs in my ear. Those three words set me off, making everything I believed come crashing down because there was only one person alive that knew my name and that was the one person I trusted enough to tell.

“How did you know?! Who fucking told you!?! You lying asshole, tell me!” I scream. I try to thrash again, only to be slapped hard on my bruised cheek.

It sounds stupid, ridiculous even, to get so upset over someone knowing your name. It’s easy to find records and files with your given title all over it. Simply calling up a friend or relative or the workplace of a person even. But not with me. Every file or record was either lost or destroyed. Everyone I knew was dead or forgot I existed. I was too young to work when I ran away and I’ve never had friends. I was one hundred percent alone. Except for Charlie.

“That’s for me to know and you to cry over.” He sneers. “Now, how about we get back to using my instruments?” I get goose bumps and my heart starts to race as he bends over to pick up the scattered tools. I see sharp things and rugged utensils, all about to be used to injure me. He raises a few of the devices; a crop, like they use on horses, a strip of sandpaper, a pocketknife, and scissors. Common things that are used for much different uses than what was about to occur. He started with the scissors. In the beginning, it was light scratches, similar to the kind you would slash onto a friend’s arm while cutting paper for a class project. It soon led to him pressed the end into my skin roughly and dragging it down my skin with the same pressure, making raised red marks with dots of dark crimson. Once every bare surface of my skin had raging stripes, he placed them back on the floor and picked up the crop. In my younger years, as every young girl did, I was obsessed with ponies and horses. I watched television shows and competitions on the large animals. I saw how gentle the riders were when it came to the whip-like tool, but as the man raises it high over his head and brutally brought it down on my already bleeding shoulder, I knew this would be nothing like that. On my thigh, forearm, cheek, he slapped the crop on as much as he could, dark bruises forming almost immediately after the impact.

He dropped the crop and picked up the sandpaper. I’d felt it once before, and I remembered the extremely rough surface well, and that this would most likely be more painful than what I had endured already. He pulled my bruised arm as far as it would go. He viciously pumped his arm, rubbing the sandpaper up and down my arm, scratching and scraping at the cuts that had already been established on my body. My eyebrows were scrunched together and my lip was bleeding from biting so hard; small tears fought their way down my bloody face, creating a trail in the dried red. Without realizing it, I was whispering for him to stop in a strangled, pathetic voice.

When that arm’s first skin layer had been ripped off and there was nothing but blood trapped under what little of the layer was left and it looked like I had taken red paint and splattered it on my arm, he continued to do the same thing to my other arm. And my legs, throat, and some of my chest were papered, too.

He was finally satisfied with my raw and bleeding body, and all I wanted to do was curl up on the cool wooden floor of the room of the home I had run away from. Then, he picked up the think I was dreading most of all, the only thing present that could really kill me; the pocketknife. I braced myself and said my pitiful goodbyes to the ones I had known in my life. He would have to kill me, to cover up his tracks and make sure I wouldn’t somehow get away and tattle.

He slowly began to carve into my sensitive skin, keeping it shallow and simple. He took the tip of it, pushing down into my skin like he did with the scissors, and quickly dipped the rest of the blade just as deep, creating his first deep cut. He ripped my skin with the blade in all the cruel ways he could think of until I was feeling lightheaded from all the blood pooling out of my wounds. My eyes started to close and during what I thought was the duration of a blink, he left and was gone when I reopened my eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief and if I hadn’t been so hurt and exhausted, I would sob. But, instead I let my head roll back against the top of the chair, my matted blonde hair spilling over the side. And I fell asleep.

Maybe it was the fact I had already been tortured enough or that my body was too busy healing, but I didn’t dream of anything that I could remember when I awoke.

I lifted my head from where it dangled, the kink in my neck barely noticeable over the sharp pain I felt from merely breathing. I tried to move into a more comfortable position, as I had slid down the metal chair slightly, but that small movement set off a million explosions in my body and I had to bite deep into my healing lip to stop from screaming like a banshee. I had never wanted to die more than in that painful moment as everything that I had escaped from during slumber crashed upon me. Sobs started to fill every crack in my body as I think about the fact that I would never get out of this trap, that I will be locked away here, being beaten and bruised and cut until one day it goes too far and I’m dead.

Someone walks into the empty room, and I start to cower back until I see it is not the same man as before. My whole body begins to shine with home and my eyes widen in thankfulness until he gets close enough so that I can see his arms are behind his back. I go right back to sobbing and if my leg hadn’t been chained to the ground, I would’ve pulled my knees up to my chest and cried, trying to hide from the demon that was about to abuse me. So all I do is awkwardly bow my head and shake my shoulders, every single microscopic movement killing me slowly. He sets down his tools and goes to work.

This time there’s a weight, a box of needles, and another knife. By the end, he was pulling more needles than I can count out of my skin where they had protruded from. This became my life. Every day, or every second as it seemed, another man came and hurt me. Sometimes I saw the same ones or the same cruelty methods were used, but they hurt the same and I guess that’s all they cared about. I was too weak to even try to fight for myself, which is probably what they were going for anyway. I had but a sliver of hope that somehow one of the two boys I had known for such a seemingly short time would come and save me.

One day, a different man, a scrawnier and more scared looking one, walked in. He seemed nervous, but all I did was lift up my beaten face and look up at him through swollen, emotionless eyes. He looked shocked and horrified after looking at my face, and I felt a small jolt of surprise go through me because none of the men had ever shown any emotion besides amusement. His hands were by his sides, clenched tightly in fists. I cocked my bruised head to the side, confused by the scene. He finally reached me and raised his hand, and I instinctively cowered down, bracing myself for the blow that never came. When I got the courage to look up again, his hand was covering his mouth and his eyes were glistening.

“I’m so sorry.” He whispered, choking on his words.

“A-aren’t you go-o-ing t-to hurt-t m-me?” I coughed out, just wanted an answer. The sooner this would start, the quicker it would be over and I could curl up in the uncomfortable position.

“I-I’m supposed to.” He mumbles, but the frightened look of a deer caught in headlights is on his face as he looks at me crumbled, hardly clothed body. He fell to his knees in front of me and reached up to touch my face, his hand shaking. I barely flinched this time, mostly because I was more curious than scared. His fingers traced the cuts that all sorts of weapons were used to create and his body just seemed to fall as he looked at my pathetic, sad figure.

“I’m so, so sorry. I’m sorry.” He kept repeated over and over again. He couldn’t have been more than fourteen. He was small, his jet black hair and light eyes reminding me so much of the friend I left behind. He must have run away from home, whether because of problems with his parents or himself. I knew that look in his eyes; I’d had it too. The look of desperation to have a place where you could live without wanting to be somewhere else.

“I want to help you.” He mumbles, catching a tear that I didn’t realize was falling on his thumb. He looked so innocent and so sad. I shook my head, knowing fully well what would happen if he tried to save me from this place.

“Yes. I need to. I can’t leave here knowing that I could have helped you escape.” He says frantically, pulling at the chains around my wrist. I whimper at the contact of metal and sensitive skin and he quickly drops my hand.

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t realize…” He trailed off as he whipped his head back and forth, looking around the large room. I send him a glance that told him it was okay. He reaches for my hand more carefully, but I pull it away before he can touch me.

“Stop. Please.” I look at him desperately, not wanting this young boy to suffer consequences because of me. He nods his head wildly, attempting to undo any of the things that were holding me hostage in the chair. The young boy couldn’t do anything because his hands were trembling so hard. He dropped the chains in frustration. He took a deep breath and tried again, but this time I pushed his hands away hard.

“No! I need to help you!” He cries, tears falling down his young, upset face.

“Shhh. Shh.” I whisper, just wanting him to stop before something happened.  
“What’s you’re name?” I ask quietly, trying to distract him from his current mission. He looked up, confused at the sudden inquisition.

“Matthew.” He murmurs. I try to smile, but my face crumbles in pain as the injuries are pulled in uncomfortable ways. So, I just nod. The loud creaking of a door opening makes us both look and the angry look of one of the men that had hurt me in the past came stomping towards us. He grabbed the boy roughly by the arm and pulls him up. Matthew tries to grab me and I scream as loud as my thick throat can as he’s dragged away.

“I’ll save you, I promise!” He yells, squirming and twisting. Three guys erupt from the door the other man came through. One of them pulls out a gun and I look away before the loud bang sounds. At this point, tears are freely falling down my face. I force myself to not look at the crumbled body of the young boy that just died because he felt sorry for me.

Just one more thing that is my fault.


	28. Chapter Twenty Eight

It’s been three days since Matthew. Three days that felt like three months; like three years. I forgot what it was like to feel secure; maybe its because I have never actually felt that way. I always feel cold and sick and like I'm dying. I know I'm dying. Little by little, I am being killed, both physically and mentally, and I'm not sure which death is going to come first, but I know that dying because of my own mind would be so much more torturous then getting one last lethal kick.   
I never stop trembling. I always live in fear. Any second I know an angry gang member could storm in and beat me with some new weapon they've though of until they weren't so angry anymore, but by the time that happens there could no longer be a person left to satisfy their fury. Every creak, every squeak, every tiny little noise, I hold back terrified screams because it could mean the end and I just can't even begin to express the terror I am living through every second because of these people. There is never a moment where I don't internally yell at myself for making the stupid decision of leaving a place that was the safest I've ever been. I hate myself and I hate the people that torture me and I hate Niall and I hate my parents and I hate everyone and I swear to god I'm going crazy.   
I don't want to be here, I don't want to live in this hell where I feel like every second is going to be the last one I ever experience and I know, I just know that if I don't get out of here soon I will die unhappy and utterly insane. I need someone to come and help me.   
The voice, oh the patronizing little disgusting voice, its always there, always telling me how much I god damn deserve this and that I dug this hole for myself by being selfish and stupid, and every single time this internal demon screams my sins at me and I want to bash my head into the wall and cry, but I can't move because I am tied to my metal prison. I want to yell 'help' until my throat is dry and aches, but I can barely take a breath without the constant thought of someone hearing me and punishing me.   
They like to pour water down my throat until I near suffocation, and as much as I pray for it to be over, I also thank god for the liquid my parched throat begs for. Food is the same. My wrists barely fit the handcuffs even though the metal used to cut deep into my skin and my face feels hollow all the time. My tired body screams for sleep, but fear keeps my eyes wide open.   
It’s been so long, so damn long since I was brought here. I have bruises and cuts and burns lining my body and I hold my breath for as long as I can to avoid the harsh cutting pain of breathing. It’s dark outside, very dark. I am grateful for the darkness; light is just more pain. I sit in silence, trembling as I jerk my head in different directions at every slight sound. I shift and whimper as my entire body feels like it is being lit on fire. Everything is shaky, I am always shaking, from exhaustion or fear, I don’t know, I don’t think I’ll ever know, because I will probably die before I’m sane enough to remember this. I can’t think, I can hardly breathe, I am so hungry, but my stomach does not want food. Nausea overwhelms me whenever I see a door open or hear a voice, and I will sit there and try to silently hack out the bile that forces its way past my lips.   
I want to go back, back to the house where I was safe, back to what could have been a home; a real life home where I was happy and secure. But I was stupid and selfish, and I should have known that after everything I had gone through when I was homeless and alone, finding Charlie and Niall was a miracle, and I should have held on tightly to that miracle. I’m so selfish, so dumb, so utterly disgusting. A door just opened. I struggle to lift my heavy head and look to the opening with my wide, scared eyes, and I would have curled up on myself to protect what life I had left inside of me, but I didn’t have the strength. I raised my head to fast and everything goes blurry and I’m dizzy. I shut my eyes, hoping it will stop, but I know it won’t because I’ve been dizzy and my thoughts have been blurry for days. They never add up and I’m always thinking something different.  
I open my eyes, and I try to focus on what weapon could be in the hands of my next attacker. I look up at the face and, could that be, could it possibly be? Charlie? Yes, it is Charlie. My beautiful, sweet Charlie, with his soft hair, wide smile, and lovely eyes. I would finally be able to feel warm and safe again. I grin and then start to laugh, and I heard it as an elated laugh, but it was not, it was a crazed hysterical laugh because this was not Charlie, it was not my safety coming to rescue me. It was me going just a little bit more insane, and for the next hour I was beaten and slapped and hurt, because no one can handle crazy. But I just kept laughing, because all I could see was Charlie and warmth and happiness, and if I was an onlooker, I would know that that bloody, crazed girl with the ratted blonde hair and bony face was dying and that she would be dead soon enough.   
When this was over, the man spit on me and left, mumbling about ‘fucking insane bitch’. I just sat there and smiled, watching as Charlie walked away to get help to save me from this place. Hours passed and my smile never faded. I looked around with a big grin that made my chapped lips bleed, but I paid no attention to the blood that ran down my face, because my Charlie was going to come back to save me.   
Charlie was taking too long, so I started to try to pull my hands out of the cuffs, so that it would be easier for him to get me out. It wasn’t working, so I started to bang my wrists as hard as I could against them, which turned out to only be a slight pull, and my smile never faltered, even when dark red blood spilled out because I had opened up some of the scars on my wrist.   
They were scars that lay over other scars, scars that had been made long ago, with scissors and needles and pieces of glass I would find at foster homes. I was so sad back then, when I had lost my parents, but how could I ever be sad again when my hero Charlie was going to save me from this place. He was taking awhile, but I had faith in him. He would come back for me, he always did. I waited hours and days, but he never came, and he never would, but that thought didn’t occur to me because I was too crazy to even think logically.   
One day, he did come back for me. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged my body along with the chair with him. I started to laugh again, because my Charlie finally came and saved me and now I was going to leave this place. Charlie slapped me, but that was okay, he was just mad that I left. He dragged me down concrete halls, and my foot kept getting caught under the chair and it started to bleed a lot, but I was getting out of here and that’s all that mattered. Charlie opened a door, it was the entrance door, it had to be, and threw me into it. He closed the door and then it got really dark. Maybe it was night time or something. I lay on my side, the weight of the chair nearly crushing me, but I never stopped laughing. I was free, I had escaped.  
But I hadn’t. I had been thrown into a dark room the size of a closet, because they were moving locations. The police had found them and they had to move, and their plan of taking me in to lure Niall to me hadn’t worked, because Niall didn’t care about me. I was too much work to carry around, so they took me into a basement closet and locked the door. They knew if the police were to find me, I’d be too insane to give them any information. No one cared, and days past. Charlie had looked for me, but stopped soon after, because he wanted me to be happy, and in a way I was. I was too far gone to be anything but happy. Niall never looked, he never cared. I was left to die in a closet at a gang’s old hide out.


	29. Chapter Twenty Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reason that this chapter is so short and so was the one before this is because, when I was originally writing this fanfiction, I lost interest and inspiration to continue writing it, so I took all the ideas I had and put them into a short, really badly written chapter.

I don’t know how long I was there and I’m not certain when they found me. All I remember is bright light burning my eyes and the weight of the chair that had been slowly crushing the bones in my foot left. I blurrily recall the way my entire body went numb when all of the blood started to circulate again and I got so lightheaded I nearly fainted. I coughed up bile and saliva, and the heaving made my body shake and go limp from the loss of energy that the hacking had caused. 

I do know that I was not treated as kindly as someone in my state should have, but much more gentle than what had been inflicted on me for so long. Loud voices were there too, shouting for help, I think, and I was lifted onto a gurney, the cracked floors making it a bumpy ride that I later found out were the paramedics rushing me as fast as they could to the ambulance. 

Now I lay in a hospital bed with a million wires attached to me, my eyes flickering everywhere and my breath is coming faster and faster with every second. My eyes opened only moments before and my diseased mind can’t comprehend anything. All I know is I am caged in a place that I can’t leave once again. 

I start to hyperventilate and I’m gasping for air, whimpers and squeaks pushing past my lips as frustrated and utterly terrified tears fall from my eyes. I’m scared. I am defenseless and weak and all I can think is I’m about to go through another seemingly endless period of time where I’m hopeless.

I didn’t realize I was screaming and thrashing and sobbing until I was physically restrained by nurses and needle is pressed to my arm, my body going limp as soon as the fluid enters me. 

I wake up a few hours later and I’m extremely drowsy. I try to lift my head to take a look around, to figure out where the hell I was, but I hardly had the strength to blink, let alone raise my heavy skull. I fall asleep again. When I wake up, there is a doctor checking all the equipment that fills the room, and the first thing I do is throw my arm out with all my might and my overgrown, broken nails rip at her bare arms, and as much effort as I put into it, my hand barely brushes her. 

“Shhh, shhh, calm down, it’s alright. You are safe.” She calmly says, taking my arm in her hand and gently resting it by my side; I don’t have the strength to push her off. I literally hood my eyes and growl at her, like some kind of wild animal. I try to make out words to tell her to get away from me, but my throat is so dry and instead I start to cough, which makes her hold a cup to my mouth, forcing me to drink it. Flashes of being force-fed come back and I gasp, taking in a gulp of water into the wrong passage. I can’t breathe and I’m choking for air. 

I’m left shaking and crying when I finally regain my breath. The doctor and a few nurses are in the doorway whispering, but it sounds like they’re shouting, and my head is pounding. My lips form the word ‘stop’ but no sound comes out. My eyes shut suddenly and I am forced back to blackness.   
It goes on like this for countless days. As I get my strength back, I start to attack anyone that comes near me more viciously and soon my arms are restrained to the bed to stop these assaults. Every face I see is another person that could torture me and I trust no one. Each time I sleep my dreams are full of screams, bruises, and blood. I have yet to wake up without crying hysterically and shrieking for my tormentors to stop killing me. And every time the kind faces of nurses enter my blurred vision, but all I can see are scarred and brutal faces of the men that drove me to this state of mind. 

Sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night, when the windows are covered by shades and the only light or sounds are coming from the machines that my body is connected to. And for just a few moments, I’m not so insane, and I can think clearly for the first time in weeks. I think about Charlie and Niall, or mum and dad, or the days I spent living alone on the streets or in the foster homes. This usually ends up with my crying silently and fear overwhelms me, and the feeling of loneliness, the same loneliness that has not once in my entire life left me, is all I can feel. And then the next morning I am crazy all over again. 

Those nights are starting to come more frequently now and rarely does it happen during the day, but I can feel the insanity slowly start to slip away, only to be replaced by distrust and fear. In a way, I’m starting to get better, after months of climbing the treacherous path to becoming completely and utterly mental. I kept getting better and I almost started to be okay with the people who took care of me, until the worst happened. 

“Charlie?” It came out as a whisper. He looked the same as I remembered, with his messy hair and little boy eyes. His smile widened when he heard me say his name and he took a step forward, before I started to scream. Suddenly all of the sanity that I had started to regain was gone in a second and I was sobbing and panicking again. The flashes of his face on the body of a strange man grabbing me and throwing me into a closet, and yelling and hitting me come flooding back and I’m having a mental breakdown. Nurses came rushing in and he was pushed out of the room and a familiar needle was pressed into my arm. 

I woke up three more times with another panic attack until I was able to control myself once again. Another week passed and once again I was met with the face of a boy I had once loved. Instead of screaming, all I could so was whisper.

“No. Please. Leave me alone. You hurt me. You scare me. Stop. Go away. Let me be. I don’t want to be hurt by you again. Please.” I sounded like a small child and the look on his face would have crushed me if I wasn’t so far gone. 

He came back every day and still, my reaction was the same, but each time I slowly started to become less afraid. I told myself over and over again that this was a terrible idea, that I had to stay away from him because he was dangerous, but the hundreds of good memories outweighed the one blurry recollection I had in that warehouse and I think I’m starting to almost love him again. 

My injuries began to heal and all the bones that had been broken were in casts and would be for not much longer, and I was gaining weight quickly. I was getting better. 

Charlie’s visits were consistent, but I didn’t let him come past the doorframe nor did it last for more than a minute. And then two minutes. And three. And soon he was a few steps closer to me and I could handle him staying for ten minutes before I started to breathe heavily because of bad thoughts. 

A month later I was almost considered healthy, both physically and mentally. And Charlie had convinced me to come home with him. A week later I said goodbye to my doctor and we left with Charlie’s arm around my waist. It seemed too fast and too soon and oh so stupid, but with him, I didn’t feel so alone and I couldn’t possibly let go of that. 

We drove for half an hour, before we reached an extremely unsafe looking town, and Charlie drummed his fingers on the wheel and his eyes kept darting around. Within minutes of having entered the area, a tire had been shot as well as a window shattered, which caused Charlie to swerve straight into a telephone pole. I slammed into the car door and glass sprays me, blood getting into my eyes and I cannot see anything. Charlie curses and throws open the door, running over to my side and grabbing me, dragging my shaking body to behind another car. I faintly notice that Charlie has a gun in his hand and every few seconds he pops up and fires a shot, until he jumped up to shoot again and a bullet found its way to his chest. He is thrown backward and everything is going in slow motion as red flowers across his light colored shirt and I am crying hysterically, but I don’t notice. 

I’m screaming his name and his eyes are open and I swear this is all a dream and he isn’t blinking like he should, why isn’t he blinking? Is it normal for a human to not blink for this long, why isn’t he answering my screams? He’s still not blinking. I’m grabbing his arms and digging my nails into his arm like I would when something scared me and instead of slapping my hand away like he usually did, nothing happened, his body remained still, and why wasn’t he fucking blinking? Charlie, please, answer me, why aren’t you blinking, tell me, please? There are shots hitting the car we’re behind but I don’t hear them, I only hear the way there is silence in the place of what should be Charlie’s heavy breathing and I’m crying and shaking his body, trying to get the response I should be, but it never comes and he’s dead. 

The sun is shining so brightly, why is it shining at all? Charlie is dead and all the happiness in the world is gone and Charlie is dead. And then I’m running and shots are hitting everything around me and maybe a bullet hit me, I couldn’t tell, but I kept running until the booming of guns was left far behind me and I collapsed on the rocky ground of an open lot. 

My mouth is wide open and sobs are racking my entire body, but no sound is coming out as I gasp for breath. I curl into a ball, the image of his body being thrown to the ground by the force of a little pellet tattooed to my eyelids. I’m shaking like a leaf and the gravelly rocks are digging into my hospital softened hands and the blood on my arms and face is drying, and if I had been able to feel anything I would have felt the glass that was embedded in every open space of my flesh. 

He was dead.

Charlie was dead and it was my fault. And then I’m running again, mindlessly, like a chicken with its head cut off, and I feel like I’m dying but I’m not dying, Charlie was dying and I just sat there and let him without doing anything and it was all my fault, why am I still alive, he should be alive, not me, I don’t deserve it. He was the only one there for me, the only one who had ever been there for me since my parents died, Charlie died, he’s dead, I’m alone. 

I keep running, and I fall down numerous times, but I get up with a determination that can only be considered horrible grief and I don’t stop, I don’t know if I’ll ever stop, Charlie’s heart stopped because I let it, he’s dead, it’s my fault. 

When I laid down in the empty field, I wasn’t sure where I was or how long I had been running, but I sank down to my knees and dug at the ground with my fingers, as if the dirt and rocks that got caught under my fingernails and the hole I was digging could stop my worries, but that didn’t make sense, nothing made sense, Charlie was gone. 

With all of the almost deaths of Charlie, I had faced it with heartbreak and tears, but he was dead, I knew he was dead, I saw him die, I was there, I was there and I could have stopped him from dying but I was useless and watched as it happened and he was dead.

And suddenly Niall is in my mind and I’m sure that Charlie had told him about how he visited me every day in the hospital and I know that Niall never came because he never cared about me and I was just a homeless, disgusting, and distraught girl he picked off the street, and he never loved me and even though I might have ended up loving him, I would never see him again, and neither would Charlie because he is dead and it was my fault. 

I get up and I’m running again and this is my fault, he is dead, and I am dead inside. I won’t be able to ever come out of the insanity that had finally completely taken over my body and I never saw street I was running down or the truck that was racing full speed down it or how I was right in its path. 

When I turn around and I’m looking straight into its blazing headlights because it’s night and I have been running for hours, my mind is suddenly clear and I know I can move and it would miss my crumbling body and I would be saved, but I don’t move, I sit there and listen to the beautiful sound of its screaming horn as it tries to warn me to move.

In that split second before it slams into my body, I suddenly remember every moment of my entire life.

My third birthday party and the pony and how happy I was because I had friends and I wasn’t alone and my parents loved me and I was loved and I didn’t even know I was loved because I didn’t know what it was like to be hated.

My parents dying and my happiness vanishing and I wasn’t loved anymore and I was lonely and crying and I didn’t know it then but I wanted to die because I wanted to be with them and to not feel this sadness anymore.

Foster homes and screaming kids and people getting angry and beating me and bad living conditions and I knew I wasn’t loved and for the first time in my life I knew that it wasn’t just a lack of love that I was feeling, it was the first time I felt hated and I didn’t know that I would feel this way for the rest of my life. 

Finally running away and living on the streets, hiding in the darkness, and being reduced to skin and bones because I was so young, too young to be on the streets and I didn’t know how to get food.

Finding the school and feeling safe for the first time in years, and returning to that school almost everyday because for once I didn’t feel that alone anymore.

Niall and our fight and the blood and the pain and the nail that hurt me.

He took me to his flat and took care of me, and then I thought it was him being a selfish jerk and he just didn’t want to get in trouble, but maybe for a second he cared about me.

Meeting Charlie for the first time and messing around with him and hearing someone say they liked me for the first time in years and how happy it made me that I was just maybe for a moment desired by someone. 

The sudden shooting in the building we were in and Niall taking me with him even though he could have just as easily left me there to die.

Going to the new house and spending time with Charlie and trusting him so much that I told him my life story.

Finding the woman’s deformed body in the hills.

The nightmares that I forced myself to stay sleep deprived over. 

The fire, leaving Charlie in the room to die, almost thinking he died, but he didn’t and he was alive.

Niall confessing something to my unconscious body.

Charlie almost dying a second time in the hospital, but again he didn’t and he was safe.

Going to a new home.

Being left in the hospital parking lot after visiting Charlie because Niall drove off without me.

Niall locking me out of the flat and then falling asleep, only to be found by Niall after screaming in my sleep because of a nightmare.

The men in the house and they threatened to kill me and then I killed one of them.

Going to another house, this one in Ireland, and Charlie told me that they were in a gang.

The fight Niall and I got into after the one him and Charlie had been in and how much it affected me.

Niall stopping one of my breakdowns.

Charlie leaving and then coming back.

Niall bringing the girl into the house and then Charlie faking that him and I were dating and then we kissed.

Me telling Charlie I loved him and he told me he loved me too.

Niall and I getting into a fight and him telling me to leave and I did.

The gang finding me.

The torture.

The hospital.

Charlie’s visits.

Charlie dying.

And now I’m here, in front of a moving car, feeling the loneliest I have ever felt, hating myself more than I ever have, crying harder than I’ve ever cried, and then it’s over. The truck hits me and my eyes shut and there is blackness.

And then my eyes are opening and I’m lying in a pool of my own blood in an abandoned school.


End file.
